


Worship In The Bedroom

by Shewolfe



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen Has Issues, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Jealous Cullen, Love, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), POV Cullen Rutherford, Relationship(s), Romance, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2019-09-06 22:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16841887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shewolfe/pseuds/Shewolfe
Summary: This never should’ve happened.We never should’ve met.Love shouldn't bloom from such tragedy, and yet here I stand falling for a woman many consider the messenger of Andraste.It's blasphemous.There's something more to the Commander.I could feel it.Something beneath the ex- Chantry boy's diffidence, something primal.But I'm now considered a key figure in the religion he follows.And even though I know I'm still just a woman, he sees someone closer to his god than he's ever known.Still, I won't stop trying to bring out the Lion I know lurks beneath all that armor.





	1. I Just Met a Girl Named  Lola

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read my Andromeda fanfic: Shrine of Lies then you'll realize I have thing for curly haired, bronzed skinned badass goddesses name Lola....can't be helped.
> 
> Lolani - like Zoe Kravitz's little sister's name..because I f&king adore that name.
> 
> This is a short intro chapter.

Cullen first met the future Inquisitor out on the battlefield.

Their encounter was brief and hurried as each was in a heightened state of urgency, attempting to handle the ongoing crises. His soldiers were being slaughtered, and she had just learned of her ability to seal breaches; their meeting could not have happened at a more inopportune time.

If it were anyone else he most likely would not have even remembered the event, but it was her.

A few words were shouted as chaos ensued around them, words that mostly got lost in the surrounding calamity. Later, he would not be able to recall any of the words spoken, however, the slight upward turn of her eye and the plump curve of her lip he would never forget.

_Lola_.

“This is Lolani-Wolfe Levellan,” Cassandra shouted above the commotion.

He was kneeling, attending to a wounded soldier and almost didn’t raise his head. Thinking back, he almost wished he hadn’t. It was just a glance, a quick glimpse, but that was all it took. He was taken.

Cullen did a double take as he rose with the wounded soldier’s arm draped around his neck.

A beautiful, scantily clad woman stood before him. It wasn’t until he witnessed her in battle that he would understand her clothing (or lack thereof) served a purpose.

A goofy smile immediately hijacked his face.

“We lost a lot of good men getting you here,” he growled, erasing the smile off his face, and hers. He immediately regretted it.

Her face fell as a look of guilt washed over it. His immediate attraction to her, and his inability to hide it, shamed him. He felt it inappropriate, and disrespectful to his men, the ones sacrificing their lives. She, who above all else, was a prisoner. _Their_ prisoner.

But he had been too harsh.

Her full brows knitted together in distress as she chewed on her bottom lip, her dark almond shaped eyes now fixed on the ground.

He opened his mouth to fix things, he wanted to take away the pain he had just caused, when the soldier he was supposed to be attending to cried out in pain. Cullen went to the soldier, and Lolani her standing there with a look of defeat on her lovely face.

He admonished himself.

Looks rarely affected Cullen, whenever had found himself drawn to a woman he was often disappointed and left wanting by her personality. A lacking character always tarnished any immediate attraction, ceasing a connection all together. For him, a meaningful connection took time to grow. He was able recognize lust when it overtook him, and had no problem extinguishing it.

 _Except, when it came to Lolani._

He quickly learned that she would be the exception to all of his rules.

_The slight upward turn of her eyes, the plump curve of her lips._

_Lola_

Cullen threw one last look over his shoulder as he carried the injured soldier away. Cassandra and the others had began to disappear back onto the path that led to the Conclave. Oblivious to Lolani’s fallen spirits. She had remained where he had left her, her eyes still fixed to the ground.

“I’ll take him to the medic from here, Commander.” A fellow soldier said suddenly, snapping Cullen’s attention away from her. “Yes, thank you,” Cullen responded. He handed the soilder off before turning back in Lolani’s direction. He had the last minute impulse to jog back to her and perhaps explain that he hadn’t meant to blame her, that things were just such a wretched disaster, when he saw the apostate appear over the small incline directly behind her.

He watched as the elf called out her name, and extend his hand down to her.

Cullen did nothing as she turned and reached up to him. Solas pulled her to him using more force than necessary. She stumbled directly into the elf. Solas held her body on his for a second longer than necessary, saying something in her ear. A small smile appearred on her face, and it dissolved all traces of the frown Cullen had first placed there. Cullen watched as they both ran off in the direction of the others. Solas leading the way, his hand wrapped firmly around hers.

Cullen turned and sighed. _Of course_ ,he thought. He knew little of the apostate other than that Solas kept to himself and seemingly disliked, well....everyone. It seemed Lolani would be the exception to all the elf’s rules as well.


	2. Whispers and Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prisoner is unconscious and yet Cullen is unable to escape talks or thoughts of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another brief chapter, things start picking up after this. Sorry for the long wait, I had caught a mean cold. I should be updating weekly from here on out, if not more. 
> 
> ***There is an allusion to rape, but that is all it is, an allusion and nothing more****

  


One day slipped into the next as whispers and gossip raced through Haven like wildfire. Truth and fable intertwined into one as they passed from ear to mouth, mouth to ear.

Talks of her being from nobility, of her guilt than of her innocence, whispers about how she wouldn’t make it, and then shouts about how she had filled the encampment.

Normally, with Cullen, such talks would have fallen on deaf ears, but since they were of her, he listened.

Most of it he found to be useless, knowledge he already had himself.

“She’s Dalish” A refugee could be overheard stating to another. “And a mage,” another would say back.

“....She was at the conclave.”

”.....She was in a Circle.”

“....She’s a prisoner.”

Then there were other whispers. Ones that made It clear that he wasn’t the only one to have become fixated on her looks.

And it worried him; the way the men described her with fervor, as if they’ve never seen a woman before.

It was incessant, pervasive, and unsettling.

The camp had many lovely women, with features that turned heads. Sure, none of them had caught his attention they way she had, but neither had any entered in such a way that commanded so much of it. He concluded that the mystery surrounding their prisoner was adding to her allure. Current events were terrifying, life threatening, the men needed a distraction, and unfortunately, they seemed to have found it in her.

But no matter how he justified it, one thought continued to nag him, continued to fight it’s way to the forefront of his mind:

 _These men_ , _not all of them are reputable._

And as though wanting to prove him right, two voices, drunken and boisterous, rose above the rest in Haven’s small tavern.

“Shit, I’d be happy with being able to visit a brothel at this point.” An especially deep voice growled out.

“I hear not getting laid makes you a better soldier.” A second voice responded.

“If I am going to die,” the first slurred. “I want to go _laid!_ ” The sound of a mug slamming into a wood table exploded across the tavern. “ _And_ not by some ugly, worn out whore.”

Cullen craned his neck in an effort to see whom the voice belonged to.

“I bet that prisoner would make a good lay.” The second voice offered up, his voice dropping in volume.

Cullen refrained from reacting, as to not draw attention to his eavesdropping. Two large men sat behind him. One had a large crooked nose, as though someone larger than him had once decided to teach him a lesson. The other had shoulders broad enough for two men, he sat hunched over his drink. Both were in uniform. They were soldiers, _his_ soldiers, and they were so drunk they could hardly sit straight.

 _Sloppy, lecherous..._. 

Cullen turned back to his table, his fingers gripping his mug too tightly. He was their superior, he needed to handle this, but in a way that showed respect for his title.

“... and she’d deserve it,” the second soldier continued. “ with all those people she got killed...”

“She’s _unconscious._ ” Crooked nose responded, spit hitting the back of Cullen’s ears.

Crooked nose was clearly not understanding what his broad shouldered friend was insinuating.

“ _Exactly.”_ The second soldier said, his voice dropped to what Cullen could only assume was supposed to be a whisper. “I hear her room isn’t even guarded.”

That was it.

Cullen stood up abruptly causing his chair to crash into the table behind him, the impact caused the soldier’s to spill their drinks. They stood for a moment silent before breaking out into uproarious laughter, each guffawing and pointing at the other’s misfortune. They were far too drunk to care that the front of their uniforms were now soaked through with cheap ale.

 _Animals, the both of them._ The Commander stormed out the tavern into the night. Was it true? Was the prisoner truly left completely unprotected..unguarded? He assumed Cassandra would have had the foresight to keep a prisoner’s chambers heavily guarded.

No, he shouldn’t have left it to Cassandra. He should’ve ordered two of his soldier to stay posted outside her door. Two ex templar soldiers, capable and ready to subdue her if she were to try to escape with the use of magic.

Cullen shook his head at his own stupidity, he was never careless. The cold nipped at his exposed ears. He sighed, his breath forming a small white cloud in front of him. It would seem his own soldiers posed more a threat to her than she did to them.

He stopped walking. What he was he doing? It was the dead of night. DId he truly plan on barging into Cassandra’s chambers at this time?

No, of course not.

He turned. He knew in which building the prisoner was being held. He’dcheck himself. He started walking again, silently admonishing himself for not having done this sooner.

* * *

Despite his initial momentum, Cullen found himself outside her door pausing.

Something wasn’t quite right, but nothing seemed amiss.

He walked around to the side and peered through the small window. Save for a small candle giving off a weak warm light, nothing could be seen.

The walkway was empty, not a straggler or late night stroller in sight, and the only sound was the high pitched whistling of the mountain wind as it rushed through Haven’s narrow alleys.

 _They’re all talk._ He concluded, after a few minutes passed. _Unforgivable talk, but only talk all the same,_ he thought. He looked around once more, nothing. He’d discuss posting proper guards here with Cassandra in the morning. He ran a gloved hand through his blonde waves, still unable to will himself to leave.

An especially brutal gust of wind whipped passed, coaxing him return to the mild warmth of his quarters. He had just resigned himself to leaving when he saw it. A shadow that flitted past the candlelight. One large enough to momentarily blot the light out completely.

 _Maker, no._ He grasped the hilt of the sword on his hip, and threw the wooden door open only to come face to face with the apostate elf, Solas.


	3. Keeping Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen keeps watch over the unconscious prisoner.  
> She finally wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For better or worse this chapter is longer as promised. We finally get Lola's POV. 
> 
> Flirting FINALLY begins next chapter. So hang in there with me!!!

“Solas?”

Solas looked up from his seat beside Lolani’s bed, her marked hand cradled within his own. Solas immediately released her hand upon seeing Cullen, and rose to his feet.

Was it Cullen’s imagination or did Solas look..guilty? 

“Commander. Is everything alright?” He asked in that calm manner of his, clasping his hands behind his back.

No. Nothing was alright. Or at the very least, nothing felt alright.

“Where are the guards?” Cullen asked, looking around the small room as though the guards he sought could be found in one of its dark corners.

“Guards?” Solas asked, looking at him as though he'd never heard of such a thing.

“Yes.” Cullen said, placing his sword back in its hilt. “ _Guards_. Prisoners have guards.”

“I assure you, Commander, she is of no threat if that is what you're insinuating.”

“She is a mage!”

“As am I, and many of the refugees here.”

 _And what of her safety,_ he thought, but couldn’t bring himself to say.

Solas sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He looked tired. Had he been up all night watching her?

“I need to grab some tomes. Perhaps, even acquire some sleep.” He began gathering the books he had piled on the small table in the corner. “I need to visit the fade." He turned back to Cullen. “If you’re concerned with her being alone, stay,” Solas said motioning to the the now empty chair.

Cullen didn't move.

“You’ll find she is barely breathing,” Solas said looking to where she laid motionless on the bed. Cullen watched as Solas’s normal emotionless face shifted to something softer. “Mage or not, Commander, there is barely any life left in her. Let alone fight.” His voice was softer than Cullen had ever heard it. 

Cullen followed Solas’s gaze to her, noticing for the first time that her shoulders were bare. In fact ...he immediately averted his gaze, heat rising to his cheeks. “Her, uh, clothing?”

“Oh, ah, yes. Her caretakers thought it’d be best to remove them.”

Cullen arched an eyebrow at Solas in question

“She was running a dangerously high fever.”

“So they strip her?” Cullen asked. “Instead of using Ice Magic to lower her temperature?”

“It was considered but ultimately decided against. We weren’t sure how the mark would react. Copious amounts of experimental magic is already being used just to stabilize it...best not push our luck.”

Cullen hesitated, not sure if he truly wanted to know the answer to his next question.“...And you were present for all of this.”

“No.” Solas said his face serious as though he was offended just by the mere thought of it. “I removed myself from the room. Her caretakers were more than capable, and all female. Cassandra’s orders.”

Cullen nodded. At least that was done correctly. He exhaled, relieved. It would seem nothing was amiss afterall. Cullen’s eyes drifted to their prisoner, her marked hand lighting up the darkness.

She had fought valiantly. She seemed to dance around the battlefields, always appearing exactly where she was needed to be, whether it was to defend or attack. What had surprised him was the sight of her daggers. She had pulled them from slits at her thighs, and used them impressively in conjunction to her magic, stealthily smiting demons where they stood. It was a sight to behold. Someone so small raining the fires of hell down on those that had seemingly escaped from there. She stood toe to toe with a demon of unimaginable size, _and won_. She had shouted out orders to the members of her party, and led them to success in a way that made him feel that she had the potential to be a great leader _._ Then she had collapsed onto the battlefield, forcing Cullen to question her guilty status. She had nearly sacrificed her life to stabilize the breech, how could anyone still believe her to be the cause of it?

Seeing her before him now, immobile and unconscious, looking so small and nothing like the powerful woman he saw on the battlefield, he was further convinced of her innocence.

“Commander,” Solas called pulling Cullen from his thoughts. Solas stood by the door, books in hand, ready to leave. "Please stay and keep a close eye on her until my return. She may hold the very key to our salvation.”

* * *

Lola’s head was pounding and, despite being sure that she had slept the entire day away, she was exhausted. She looked around the dark. She was still in the small room that served as her cell. And it was still night.

She turned on her side half expecting Solas to be there, as he had been each time she came to, but a larger, more dominating figure sat in his stead.

“Solas?” She asked, her voice small and hoarse. Her body ached all over and just turning onto her side proved to be a challenge.

The man in the chair lifted his head, just as the wind slammed open the shutters and blew out the candle’s flame. Extinguishing the room's only source of light. Before being engulfed in darkness, Lola saw a flash of blonde hair and golden eyes.

Her breath caught. It was the Commander, she was sure of it. She listened as he bumped around in the dark. “Maker’s breath,” he mumbled in that familiar Fereldan accent as he slammed into what she assumed was the small table near her bed.

“Mistress Levellan?” A smooth voice called out to her. It was most certainly the Commander’s. “I apologize, allow me to -” She gasped as she felt the bed dip. He had leaned against her mattress to better reach the shutters above her bed, “-close that.”

She clutched at her covers, suddenly aware of how very nude she was underneath them. _I had a fever,_ she recalled. Well, she certainly didn’t have one now. She wondered where they had placed her clothing. Light, she needed light. She waved a hand and the fireplace burst to life, giving off much needed heat and light.

He froze above her, seemingly startled by sudden appearance of flames. The Commander looked down his eyes meeting hers., a golden curl falling into his face. There was an intensity in his gaze that made her feel as though he could see her through her sheets. Thankfully, after a moment, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat before quickly locking the shutters and retreating to his seat.

Lola exhaled, realizing that she had been holding her breath. _He had blushed,_ she thought to herself with a small smile, but her smile faded as she remembered his words to her on the battlefield, the tone in his voice, the look of disgust in his eyes.

" _We lost a lot of good men getting you here."_

She felt torn. The Commander was a handsome man, that fact had not been lost on her. Despite everything that was occurring around them the day they were introduced, there was no denying that she immediately found herself attracted to him, but he hadn't even let her speak before he berated her.

_He resents you,_ she told herself. Y _ou’d do well to remember that._

“Where’s Solas?”

The Commander seemed to stiffen at the mention of his name. “Yes, of course, Solas.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. "He stepped out to retrieve more books and some sleep. I happened to be near so I’m just-”

“Making sure I don’t make a run for it?” What other explanation for his presence could there be?

“What?” Cullen asked. Lola looked at him. To his credit he did seem genuinely surprised. “No,” he shook his head. “I’m merely keeping watch until Solas returns.”

“Lies.” She countered. “Solas said I was prisoner.” She heard something of a low growl accompany the Commander’s exhale. “Despite all I gave to aid in the fight,” she continued. “I’m still considered guilty.”

“ _Nothing_ has been decided. _Solas_ was wrong to have said anything.” He said Solas’s name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

 _They don’t get along,_ she realized, now understanding his agitated growl. Solas was a bit arrogant, sure, but... “Solas is the only one being honest with me.” She insisted, saying it more to herself than him.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Cullen said. His voice sounded slightly pained.

Lola looked at him, and for the first time she realize how tired he looked. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was disheveled, and stubble littered his face. She felt a twinge of regret. Perhaps she wasn’t being fair, maybe he truly was there just to watch over her.

 _But_ was he being fair when he placed all blame on her? As though she wasn’t already aware of the many, _many_ people losing their lives all around her? As if she hadn’t already felt the weight of responsibility the mark placed on her, and her alone? _No_ , she thought bitterly. He had already made up his mind, and to him she was guilty. 

_At least, Solas gave me the benefit of the doubt_ , she thought. Everything had occurred so swiftly, she was given no time to think or reflect. Just days ago she stood face to face with a demon so enormous...she had been sure she was going to die. 

“Were they so afraid of me that they sent The Lion, The Commander himself to watch me?” She wanted answers, and Cullen was the only one here. She struggled to sit up. Cullen’s hand shot out to help her. His grip was firm, but gentle, and she could feel warmth radiate off him through his gloves. He steadied her with a hand on her elbow as she sat to rest her back against the wall behind her, her covers firmly planted under each of her arms.

“Thank you,” she said sounding small again. The gesture dampened her building rage. 

“I’m not running, Commander,” she said, her voice softer than before. ‘Prisoner, or not, I intend to stay and _fight.”_ Her breathing was labored, each intake of breath grew more difficult than the last. Even sitting up was taking more energy from her than she had anticipated.

Cullen looked at her, his golden eyes studying her for a moment. He grabbed the cup of water off the table and brought it to her lips.

“Drink.” The tone in his voice letting her know that that was an order. She nodded and took a sip. He waited patiently for her to finish. When she was done, he took the cup and placed back on the table.

“Mistress Levellan -” he began, sitting back in the chair, his sentence interrupted by a light knock at the door. Cullen paused and looked at it. He knew same as her that Solas had returned. Their time was up. She watched him sigh and rake a hand through his disheveled hair. He set his eyes on her.

“I believe you,” he said. And with that he left.


	4. Fool or Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finds it difficult to concentrate during their first War Room meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short one, but I have a follow up coming by the end of the day. If I combined them, it may have been too long..meh we'll see.

"...and you remember the Commander. ” Cassandra concluded.

Three days had passed since the night he went to watch her. For three nights he had replayed her words in his head: _“Solas is the only one being honest with me.”_ For three nights he had wondered how he had managed to get everything so wrong while Solas got it right. 

When she told him that she would stay and fight, he believed her. He admired her strong resolve, sure that in her position many would’ve ran.

He was finding there were many things he admired about her.

Cullen had received word early that morning that she had awaken, and not just awaken, but had left her room. Word spread quickly, and soon the camp was ablaze with energy and movement. Hordes of people had lined up outside her door wanting to catch a glimpse of the woman they now considered “ _The Herald of Andraste_.”

“Yes, Commander.” Lolani’s dark eyes met his before quickly looking away. “We met. Out on the field.”

“Only for a moment.” He agreed, clearing his throat, and looking away. Maker, he had been staring, _again_. He turned his attention to some imaginary point on the map before him.

“Very well. Now that that is handled; Mistress Levellan perhaps you’d like to…” Josephine rattled on.

He moved his eyes back to Lolani in which he hoped was a casual manner. She was listening intently to Josephine, nodding her head at all the appropriate times, asking all the appropriate questions. Her curls were pulled back and out her face, giving him an uninterrupted view of her high cheek bones and adorable nose. Her pouty lips were colored a deep red, and her eyes were lined in a dark kohl that only made them more impressive. His eyes traced over the light markings that ran over her cheek bones and around her eyes. They were lovely, like strands of gold had been laid delicately onto her face. He shook his head. He should be paying attention, contributing to the conversation but, Maker help him, she looked like a dominatrix standing before him in head to toe black leather. Never had he ever seen a battle suit fit so...snug, and all he could think about was how much he _liked_ it.

He fought back the ridiculous grin that began to play on his lips.

 _Andraste_ , what was it about this woman that made him want to grin like a fool?! 

His eyes roamed over her figure, taking in the deep honeyed skin that peeked out of carefully placed slits in her armor. He wanted to touch her. Haven was a bitterly cold locale, and her skin appeared to have absorbed the sun’s rays. Her warm brown tone appeared to radiate summer bliss.

Lolani turned away from him. Cassandra was now explaining something on the map to her that had Lolani bending over ever so slightly at the waist to get a better view. Cullen looked away, this was highly inappropriate. He never behaved this way, but his eyes crept back to her form all the same, as though they had a life of their own. Her petite frame carried her curves well. Cullen cocked his head to the side to get a better view of her rear, chastising himself as he did so. This was foolish. He was behaving like some _horny_ school boy. His behavior irritated him, he was allowing himself to be distracted. He closed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to regroup himself only to see Leliana looking at him curiously when he opened them, one eyebrow raised and a small knowing smile on her face.

Maker, was there anything that woman _didn’t_ notice?

He cleared his throat and said a little too loudly: “I’ve no time for this. I’ve soldiers to train. Fetch me when she understands her position here and when a decision has been made.” He then proceeded to storm out of the room, the heavy wooden doors slamming shut behind him.

Cullen strode purposefully down the Chantry corridor, away from The War Room. He walked as quickly as he could go without actually breaking into a run. His ears were hot from embarrassment. He wondered how much of his gawking Leliana actually witnessed before he ridiculously stormed out.

 _Idiot_.

He seemed to only have two modes around Lolani: fool or ass.

What was it? Twice now that he had insulted her? The cold wind slapped Cullen in the face as he exited the Chantry. She was proving to be too big of a distraction. He didn’t even want to think too deeply about the fact that she was now considered the Herald of Andraste. Cullen clenched his fists tightly, stretching the leather they were encased in. He headed directly to the place he felt most in control: on the field training his men.

“Pick up your weapons!” He roared. “Lieutenant, don’t take it easy on them. They must be ready for a real fight”. He was taking his frustration out on his men, he knew. No matter. It would only make them better.

Cullen picked up his sword and shield, and joined his men on the training. What better way to teach than to show them. “You!” He growled at the nearest recruit. “Keep your shield up!” He rammed the soldier to better illustrate how having your guard down would only lead to injury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite Cullen's reserve and stiffness, he is still a man, and I imagine that once and awhile that part of him surfaces, and I imagine that not having full control all the time annoys him to no end.


	5. A Few Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola shares a drink with Varric and Solas. Learns a hard truth.

Lola exited the Chantry. Thankful that Solas was able to procure an all leather battle suit for her. Haven was freezing, and what she usually wore would provide no protection against its biting winds.

“Herald!” A voice called out to her as she passed by. She forced a smile, but kept walking.

 _‘Herald of Andraste,’_ she thought, shaking her head. She was no such thing.

“Herald!” The voice called again. The person clearly following her. “Hey, Herald.”

“I’m sorry, but I am not -” She stopped. She knew him. She had met him. Fought alongside him.

“You had one job, and you just failed it,” the dwarf said shaking his head at her in mock disappointment. “Rule number one of being The Herald: Don’t deny being The Herald! You’ll steal the people’s hope.”

“Varric?”

“Rule number two,” he continued. “Remember the people’s names. At the very least the names of the ones you fight alongside.”

She smiled, and nodded. Picking up on the fact that he was purposely giving her a difficult time. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry, Varric.” She said, walking again. He fell into step beside her. “You know.” She said, looking at him. “You are my favorite new companion. Even if I did momentarily forget your name.”

It was true. Lola had taken an immediate liking to the Dwarf the day that they had met. She found him to be funny. His personality was inviting, warm. Completely void of any false pretenses.

“Shhh.” He hushed her with a finger to his lips. “Not too loud or Chuckles’ll hear. Pretty sure, he believes he’s your favorite.”

“Chuckles?” She asked, arching a brow at him.

“Yea, Chuckles. The hobo elf with locs. The one that has yet to leave your side.”

“Oh! Solas! Yes, he’s been helping me…. Wait. Why do you call him _Chuckles_?”

“How about you join me in the tavern for a drink. One that you clearly need -” He wasn’t lying. “- and _maybe_ I’ll regale you with a tale of two.”

They ceased walking, having reached Haven’s small training ground. Cullen was on the field training his men, roaring commands, and hammering them with his shield.

She sighed. She needed to speak with him, actually, per Josephine’s orders, as _The Herald_ , she needed to speak with practically everyone in Haven.

“You know, Curly, he takes time to warm up to people.”

“I’m not so sure time alone is going to do it. He seems so uncomfortable around me. Unhappy with me.”

“The only time he’s comfortable is when he is being bashed with something. And he’s unhappy with everyone. You know what you should do? You should just run out onto that field and just start sparring him.”

Lola looked down at Varric. She was trying to decide if he was being serious or not. “You think so?”

“Sure, why not?” He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “Just run out there, and give him a little shock. He’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Hmmm, maybe...” she looked back at Cullen on the field. He was sparring with two of his soldiers at once, knocking each down and into the dirt in turn. He certainly looked like he could take a shock or two with no problem. “Alright, Varric. Thanks for the suggestion. I think I’ll try it.”

“Really?!” Varric looked thrilled, which should’ve been her first hint that he was screwing with her. “I mean, _t_ hat’s great. That’ll be something to see, but, uh, first, how about those drinks?”

“Yea, let’s do that.” She said, turning to Varric. Everyone could wait one night. Let her say goodbye to Lola, tomorrow she’ll be _The Herald_."I gotta tell you, Varric, I've never drank before."

"Well, kid. There's a first for everything."

* * *

“You write _smut_!” Lola hollered, laughter tearing through her.

“No! No. Not smut!” Varric said, attempting to be heard over her laughter. A large smile on his face. “ _Romance_.” He clarified when Lola finally quieted down. He took another swig of his drink. She wiped a tear from her face. 

Lola turned on her stool in order to lean her back on the table, placing her elbows on them for extra support, her feet kicked out comfortably before her.

When she entered the Tavern she hadn’t expected to have such an enjoyable time. She had never drank before, The Circle hadn’t allowed such things, but with the warm liquid flowing through her veins she felt loose and uninhibited. For the first time since the conclave, she felt like herself.

“But I need to ask, now that Cassandra is out of earshot, how are you _really_ holding up?”

Lola sighed. She was reppressing so many emotions, she didn’t know which to describe to Varric first.

“It’s overwhelming.” She frowned, stating the obvious. “So much is happening all at once. It’s scary and confusing and... people are constantly staring at me now that I am _The Herald_. As though I’m actually important.” She shook her head. "It’s all one big mind fuck.” _Soooo_ much tension. Andraste, she grew stiff just thinking about it. She needed to relax. She had to calm down. She closed her eyes and allowed her head to hang back toward the table, rolling it on her neck in an effort to release some tension. She could feel her long hair grazing the table behind her, as well as Varric’s eyes on her. Lola opened one eye to peek at him, then immediately squeezed them shut again. His face was full of mirth.

“What is it?” She asked, sensing he wanted to say something.

“Well, I’ve got to tell you, Herald-”

“Lola!”

“Lola.” He corrected himself. “ I’ve got to tell you, Lola that people aren’t staring at you only because of your new title, or your creepy glow in the dark, void closing hand.”

She groaned, eyes still shut. She wasn’t sure where this was heading, but already didn’t like it.

“Ok. Why is it then?”

She arched her back attempting to relieve more of the tension she felt building up. Oblivious, to how her movements were emphasizing the curves of her body in the dim tavern light.

“Maker, it’s that! That right there!” He called, his voice full of amusement.

Lola re-opened one eye to squint at him, exhaling and coming out of her stretch.

He laughed. ”No. I refuse to believe you are that oblivious. You’re yanking me right now! You must be!”

“Varric, I seriously have no idea what you are getting at.” She flipped her dark curls to one side of her head with her hand and began massaging her own neck. She needed to meditate. Not even the liquor was enough to loosen all these damned knots that were beginning to form.

“Maker! You are too _sexy_ to be a religious symbol!” He finally admitted, letting loose loud laughter. “Aren’t I right, Chuckles?”

 _Sexy?? Chuckles? Who is_ -

Lola opened her eyes to see Solas standing directly in front of her. She arched an eyebrow at him, daring him to answer. Though Varric was her favorite, Solas was the companion she currently felt closest to. He was kind to her that first day, sort of taking her under his wing. He enjoyed teaching; she enjoyed learning. They had quickly fallen into a comfortable badinage. He had entertained her whenever she had regained consciousness, kept her from focusing on how very close to death she had truly been. He had even comforted her after Cullen had lashed out at her.

Her heart sank a little at the memory of it. _Only to have him lash out at me again today...._

“Oh, undoubtedly.” Solas responded a small smile on his lips. He playfully kicked her outstretched feet out of the way so he could pass and take a seat of his own. He sat down opposite her, mirroring her posture. The small smile never leaving his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. Not for the first time she wondered if he was this way with everyone, or if the playful banter was saved just for her.

“You’re both flatterers, but no, you really should see me when I first wake up,” She snorted.

“Lest you forget, I've already have. And I must say, it does nothing to help your argument. You're still exquisite, Lethallan.” Solas leaned forward, toward her.

Her eyes studied his. Did he really think she was _exquisite_? Was he teasing her? He had given no indication of having such thoughts the whole time he was taking care of her. _Had he?_

“See!” Varric bellowed. "It's ok. I know from personal experience what it feels like to be undeniably sexy." He motioned to his chest. "The chest hair..drives the ladies wild."

Lola sighed, and looked down at her tight battle suit. It laced up around her waist like a corset, and even though the suit came up high enough to cover her neck, there were still openings, slits..like say at her cleavage.

She frowned this was definitely not something the Herald of Andraste would wear. So, yea, maybe she really wasn't modest enough to be thought of as The Herald, but she had spent so much time being controlled and micro-managed. First with her clan, her mother doing everything in her power to make sure she passed for full elf ... _right down to cutting my ears_ ...she touched the small points on her ears. They were now longed healed. She shook her head. She didn’t want to think of that now. Still, from the clan she started with, to The Circle she ended up in, her life had constantly bent to the will of others. Now she was finally free. Free to dress herself as she pleased, and discover who she may truly be, only to be told that once more she must adhere to someone else’s idea of whom she should be. She didn’t want the title. She did not believe she truly was this Herald of Andraste. But, there was a giant hole in the sky spewing out demons, and in the end, she wanted to do the faith that the people put in her some justice. To honor it. She suddenly felt self conscious. She straightened up her posture, drew her feet back in toward herself, and began fussing with her hair, attempting re-gathered it, control it. Perhaps, she should lose the red lip and the black khol she wore around her eyes as well. She needed to make herself smaller, less noticeable.

Varric must have noticed the shift in her energy.

“No. Don’t do that.” He said, moving her hand from her hair. “Listen, being ‘ _sexy_ ’ is just one piece who you are. And that piece, the piece that doesn’t seem to quite fit in with the rest of who you are, it’s what makes you human when everyone else is trying to make you into some sort of holier than thou voice of a deity.”

“The dwarf speaks the truth.” Solas agreed, moving to lean back on the table, and tucking his locs behind his ear.

“Why, thank you, Chuckles!”

“Don’t allow people’s fragmented image of you to define you. Varric is much more than his chest hair.”

“Not too much more.” He joked.

“Cassandra more than her cheek bones. Cullen more than his curls,” Solas continued.

“Curly? Nah, they just keep him around to look pretty.”

“And you, Lolani - Wolfe. You are much more than your obvious …” Solas paused, searching for the correct word, gesturing toward her body. “Appeal.”

“Smooth, Chuckles.” Varric teased.

Lola gave them a grateful smile. “Chuckles? Curly? Have you nicknamed everyone in this camp?” Lola asked.

Varric emptied his drink and turned, all three of them now faced one another, their backs resting on their respective tables. “Eh, more or less” He shrugged. “I’d just call you Sexy, but then it would sound like I was constantly hitting on The Herald of Andraste. Not a good look. Plus, Bianca would just get jealous.” He shook his head in mock disapproval.

“Now we couldn’t have that.” Lola thought for a moment. “ Why ‘ _Bianca_ ’?” 

“Ah, well, some stories are not meant to be told.” Varric said mysteriously, rising from his seat. “Another round!” He called out.

“On the Herald!” Solas added, smiling at her. 

The whole tavern to erupted into cheers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yea..going with the concept art version of Solas with dark locs, and he is a little more social than our dear Solas in the games, but it is only when he wishes to be. I didn't need two guys hiding away, fumbling around waiting for the woman, because than nothing would get done. I feel like Solas can be aggressive and playful but it is all pretty much in private, just bringing some of that out in the open.
> 
> Also, I like the idea of her being an undeniable sexy woman, because some women are, but its usually the more reserved, modest women that get the glory in movies and books and what not. And anyway, they're more fun to write (IMO)


	6. Sparring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola surprises Cullen out on the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys forgive the typos, I always check, but I always miss a few. I always come back and edit as well

The next morning the Commander stood on the training grounds, his thoughts elsewhere. He stood amongst his men absently roaring orders, his voice getting carried away by Haven’s relentless winds. It was his men that were the first to notice her. One by one they had ceased responding to his commands. Chatter increased significantly among them, their heads all turned in the same direction. Directly behind Cullen. The Commander turned around to see what could possibly be demanding their attention, ready to unleash a verbal lashing onto whomever dared distract his men from their drills. But it was _her_.

He had been thinking of her all morning, and all throughout the night. It had been a )few day kform of self torture, just desserts for his sharp tongue. Seeing her walking across the field toward him, he almost felt like he had manifested her purely by the power of his own thoughts. She wore a face cowl and a hood, protection against the harsh mountain air. Two blades bound to her, one strapped to each thigh, the only visible part of her were her eyes lined in a khol even darker than her battle suit. He had never wanted to get so close to a woman that looked so dangerous.

That’s when she drew her blades.Her arms crossed in front of her reaching for the blades held on the thighs opposite them. She whipped them out in one swift motion, holding them down and out, away from her body.

She was going to attack.

There was a chorus of gasps from his soldiers, all of them looking to him for clarification as to what they should do. Cullen hesitated, unsure of exactly what was happening. Until she winked at him, a smile in her eyes. Despite himself, he grew excited. She was in his territory now, the one place he never played the fool. 

She quickened her steps and bent slightly at the waist. Cullen readied himself with his sword and shield, his recruits swiftly moving out of his path. A few cheers and whoops erupted as they realized they were about to witness their Herald and Commander spar. Swift on her feet, she gracefully dodged his blows, and relentlessly landed her own. It’s true, he held back. He would never risk actually injuring her, Herald or not, but he was impressed by her all the same. The ease with which she kept up with him, the confidence she had in his ability to block all her hard hits, the way she held a playful spark in her eyes the whole time. It was as though they were engaging in a private rehearsed dance. Hoots and hollers increased. A crowd was now gathered around them, but Cullen focused all his attention on her, mentally notating everything from her combat style’s inadequacies, to the pressure she placed behind each blow. He’d need to work on helping her strengthen her weaknesses. He understood she was first and foremost a mage, but she also seemed to rely heavily on her daggers.When Cullen saw an opening he went for it, managing to knock one of her daggers out of her hand without injuring her. He threw his shield to the side, freeing up a hand of his own. He intended to grab her free hand and pin her, but every time he reached out to touch her she’d lightly shock him. The first time she did it, he was so surprised that he laughed out loud.The use of magic usually put him on edge, but she had such a devilish look in her eye. She was just daring him to try and catch her. By his third attempt he became concerned when he realized the small stings of pain were turning him on. He then found himself growling in reply to her tiny shocks. He watched as her chest rose and fell. She was becoming winded. This was his chance. He lunged causing her to drop her second blade. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around so that her back was to him, holding her wrist securely between them. 

She sent the shocks through him steadily but not harshly, he could endure.They stood there for a moment as she attempted to catch her breath, her body firmly against his, his blade at her neck. He was much larger than her, like a steel column against a swaying blade of grass. He marvelled that this small woman went up against demons..and won.

 _She_ was going to save the world? He thought. While she was fighting to protect all of them, who would be protecting her?

He felt her lean into him, her head angled back resting on his chest.

“Commander?” She practically whispered.

“Yes?” He said, responding more huskily than he intended. He looked down into her grey eyes.

“What in the world?” Cassandra’s voice carried over to them as she fought her way through the crowd.

“This was fun.” 

“Yes.” He replied, realizing it was.

“Ok, the show is over! Back to your business! Now!” Cassandra barked, attempting to disperse the crowd.

Cullen broke eye contact with Lolani at the sound of Cassandra’s voice and immediately became aware of the copious amountpeople watching them.

He released Lolani immediately. 

His eyes followed her as she went to collect her daggers, restoring them to their rightful place by her thighs. He was on the verge of letting the embarrassment of the whole spectacle envelope him when he spotted the apostate in the crowd. His serious, contemplative face standing out in the sea of smiling jovial ones.

 _He’s watching her with me_. He flashed back to how Solas held her that day, his hand on the small of her back, as though he already knew her intimately. How Solas had run off with her leaving Cullen before he even had a chance.

A possessive feeling grew in his chest erasing any feelings of humiliation. He puffed his chest out. Cullen couldn’t be sure if Solas was interested in Lolani, but he liked the idea of the elf knowing that he had some competition. He made a point to meet Solas’s stare as he cleared his throat and roared at his soldiers. “Enjoy the show?! Back into positions!” Everyone immediately returned back to their original stations.

Lolani approached him, face cowl down, a demure look on her lovely face. Cullen almost didn’t notice her approach, he had been so focused on Solas.

“Hi.” She said.

Cullen’s tough demeanor melted at the sound of her voice, soft and shy. A sharp contrast to the confidence she displayed on the field. Perhaps they weren't so different in that regard.

“Hello, again,” he responded. 

“I know I already took a lot of your time, but could we speak for a moment?”

“Yes. Of course. Let’s just..”

Cullen looked around. Although, everyone had returned to their normal activities he still felt like they were still on display. He took her gently by the elbow and led her into one of the many tents that dotted the training field. The harsh wind whipped the tent’s flaps open and closed, night was nearing and the winds were picking up.

They stood awkwardly facing each other for a moment within the small tent, his armor ladened body practically took up all the space.

“I kind of pounced on you back there.” She looked up coyly from beneath a canopy of thick, dark lashes. “I apologize if it was too much. You’re always so busy. I was just hoping to capture your attention.”

That she had, he thought. “No. Truly you can pounce on me anytime,” he said. His thoughts wrapped up on how warm she had felt when he held her. Even through his armor he had been able to feel heat radiate off her.

“Commander?” She called. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Maker’s breath, had he just said what he thought he had? “Er, I mean to say that…” Cullen stammered, remembering his words. His hand shot to his neck.

* * *

He’s flustered, she thought surprised by the adorable way he rubbed at his neck and averted his gaze from her. _Truly, you can pounce on me anytime._ A slip of the tongue, he hadn’t meant it. It was clear his thoughts were elsewhere. Still...

“I honestly wasn’t sure how’d you react. Varric said joining you out here would be a good way to connect with you."

"Varric said -?" He stopped himself. He sighed loudly, he looked exasperated.

"I stood for awhile, watching you spar with your men, your focus and ferocity was...well, it was...” 

_Sexy._

She stopped herself. He was her _Commander,_ and in all honesty, he didn't seem very fond of her. He wouldn’t appreciate her fawning over him as she had seen countless others do.

“Inspiring.”

She straightened her posture, she had began to lean toward him a little too much. Creators know she has never been good at hiding her attraction to a man. There was no such thing as wooing amongst a Circle of mages, love was impossible, and sex was quick. She knew no other way but to wear her heart on her sleeve, but now wasn’t the time.

“I actually wanted to apologize for your loss of men.” She inhaled, hoping, praying that her choice of words properly displayed her remorse. “You were right. They died because of me. I’m not worthy of their sacrifice. I never will be, but I vow to do my best to make sure their sacrifice won’t be in vain. I’m sorry.” She looked into his golden eyes, urging him to feel her sincerity.

* * *

Cullen stared at her, at a loss for words. Unpacking everything she just said in his mind.

 _Varric_ , he thought with a frown. Of course this was the dwarf's doing. Tethras obviously had too much time on his hands. Cullen was sure he could find a few things to busy the dwarf.

 _She apologized._ He hadn’t expected an apology. He was sure his rough demeanor had pushed her away, offended her to the point of no return, yet here she was apologizing to him. She was much more resilient than she appeared.

“Yes, well, thank you, for that.” He said, his voice soft. He wanted to tell her he hadn’t meant it the way he had said it. He wanted to apologize for how abrasive he had been, and explain that he understood what it was like to be responsible for so many deaths, but he didn’t.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the tent opening flapping aggressively in the frigid wind.

“Well, I should get going. Josephine is expecting me.” He waited for her to leave, to take her warmth with her, but she hesitated, her gaze settling on some distant point outside of the tent. “We leave for the Hinterlands tomorrow.”

He felt surprise wash over him.

The Hinterlands? Tomorrow? He knew that, of course he knew that. He had planned the route, so why did the impending departure now feel so sudden?

“We’re using horses to get there.” She said, looking back at him.

“You know I’ve never ridden a horse?” She shook her head. This clearly frustrated her. “Josephine says there's no time for me to learn, that I must just ride with Solas, or Cassandra, but -” She let her sentence end. She looked at her gloved hands and sighed. “I’ll see you around, Commander.”

He watched her retreat from the tent and make her way back toward The Chantry. Thoughts of her arms wound tightly around Solas’s waist assaulted his mind. He shook head, wanting to dislodge the picture from his mind. _Juvenile_ , his feelings didn't matter. But, she _wants to learn_ , he thought upset at the idea of that being denied to her.

He set off toward The Chantry, he knew what he had to do.


	7. Lessons on Riding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola’s riding lessons with Cullen commences.
> 
> Lola learns that she and Solas are connected in a mysterious way.

Cullen’s gaze fell on the sway of her hips as she approach him in the empty field. He silently reminded himself (for what felt like the hundredth time) that she was now thought of as _The Herald_. A revered religious figure.

Still, his mind wandered...

_..Had every woman’s hips swayed like hers when they walked, and had he just never noticed?_ How _had he never noticed?_

Even if he, personally, wasn’t quite sure if Andraste truly had a hand in all of this, others believed it, and that sort of belief deserved respect and reverence and respect and …. _and_...

_...It’s not so much of a walk, as much as it is a slither. A slow winding motion. Maker...and then her battle suit.._

Cullen groaned inwardly at the sight of _that_ battle suit. It was the one Leliana had caught him shamelessly gawking at. The all black leather suit that fit her like a second skin. Although, he now understood that the openings in her suit were there to allow her to bend and move swiftly, it still seemed to have been created for the sole purpose of torturing him.

Perhaps it had been a mistake for him to have insisted on being the one to teach her.

When he had approached Josephine and Cassandra about pushing their departure to the Hinterlands back a day, they had reluctantly acquiesced. “They need to depart as soon as possible, time is of the essence,” Josephine had said. And of course it was, but Cullen had pushed the point that it was equally important that the woman, now considered the Herald of Andraste, not be seen as dependent. She needed to win the trust and faith of the people, riding in on her own steed would give the image of a powerful woman, one that was in control. And that was the image they needed.

Cassandra had offered to teach Llaveland herself but Cullen had insisted (perhaps a little too eagerly) that he be the one to instruct her. His insistence won him yet another sly smile from Lelianna.

 _Andraste,_ how he hated those smiles.

No. There was no turning back now. He didn’t want to consider how ridiculous he would appear if he were to skitter away from the field now after being spotted by her.

_...Maker, not all women walk like that. Cassandra doesn’t, nor Josephine._ Though, if he were honest, he had never looked at Cassandra nor Josephine the way he found himself looking at Llavelan.

Cullen sighed and smoothed back his curls. He straightened his back and readied himself to greet her. He was no longer some timid Templar boy, he absolutely could get through this lesson without embarrassing himself. Couldn’t he?

“Commander!” She beamed when she reached him. Her smile was one that reached her lovely eyes, it was genuine and inviting, and it had Cullen’s stomach tying itself in knots.

“Thank you!” She said as she threw her arms around him. Cullen stiffened at the feeling of her small arms wrapping firmly around his neck. He was immediately enveloped in a peculiar warmth, a heat that passed from her to him and warmed him right to his bones. It was as though her embrace had chased away the winter’s chill and had ushered in summer.

“You’re- you’re so warm.” He slouched down, allowing her a better angle to hold him. Even on her toes she couldn’t quite reach his neck unless he slouched, though he didn’t dare embrace her back. Instead his hands lightly settled on her arms as they held fast to his neck.

“Oh.” She said releasing him, that charming smile still on her face. Her dark, kohl lined eyes looked up into his. “It’s a spell Solas taught me to ward off the cold.” She paused. “You felt it?” She asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Hmmm, I guess it affects other people too if they’re close enough to me.”

_Solas._ So, he was teaching her spells now. It was bound to happen. Magic was something her and Solas shared. 

Llavelan looked him up and down, seemingly in thought, her lips slightly pursed and twisted the to the side. It was an adorable expression. “I can perform it on if you’d like.” She said raising her hands in preparation. “Though, I’m not sure how long it’ll hold on a non mage.”

“No!” Cullen said, fighting a rising panic. “I’m quite alright as I am. The cold doesn’t bother me, I assure you.”

“As you wish.” Llavelan replied, lowering her arms. She looked at him with regard. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t. I just…” Cullen trailed off unsure of how to communicate his distrust of magic to mage. “I prefer..” He said, trying again.

“Please, don’t explain yourself.” Llavelan said, holding up a gloved hand. “There are many reasons to distrust magic. I’m sure yours are valid.”

Cullen sighed, relieved. “Thank you.” Gratitude filled him. He wanted nothing less than to accidentally offend her while attempting to explain himself, not when they were just getting to know eachother. It was such a small gesture but her willingness to accept his feelings toward the matter, well, it only made him appreciate her all the more.

* * *

Lola had been thrilled when Josephine and Leliana had alerted her of their postponed departure to The Hinterlands.

“The Commander has insisted that you learn how to properly ride a steed before your departure.” Josephine had relayed to her.

“He also insisted that he be the one to teach you,” Leliana added with a small smile.

Lola didn’t think much of it, from what she could tell Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen were friends, and the women seemed to thoroughly enjoy teasing The Commander every chance they had. And she could understand why, he was so serious and stoic, and so easily irritated. His demeanor was in such sharp contrast with his boyish good looks, one couldn’t help but poke at him a little if not for any other reason than to get him to smile, which he rarely did.

Cullen didn’t seem the type to offer his services easily, but perhaps because she was “The Herald”, he felt the situation pertinent enough to warrant his expertise.

She also hadn’t thought when she threw her arms around him, she was just so grateful, and it was hard not to notice the look of annoyance that ghosted his face at the mention of Solas’s name. As though the mere reminder of Solas’s existence displeased The Commander. She made a mental note to refrain from mentioning Solas’s name as much as possible while in Cullen’s presence.

“I know you’re a busy man, Commander. I truly appreciate you taking the time away from your men to teach me.”

“The pleasure is mine.” There was something so intimate about the deep tone of his voice, and the way his eyes seemed to linger a moment too long on hers. Lola forced herself to look away, sure she was only imagining things.

She looked aimlessly around the open field. There was nothing around them but dry patches of frozen grass a dull, worn shade of green, along with the occasional leafless, half dead tree. “So, Commander where is this horse of mine?”

Cullen motioned to the large, black horse standing beside him. “Maximus here is the steed you shall be learning on and riding to The Hinterlands.”

Lola felt all enthusiasm drain from her. Maximus was a large horse. An _exceptionally_ large horse. The black steed seemed to be all rolling muscle and power. She had noticed Maximus beside the Commander upon her arrival, of course she had, how could she have not? But for some idiotic reason she had assumed Maximus was his horse, not hers.

Cullen pet the horse affectionately, the large animal practically purred under his touch.

That could not be _her_ horse. “Were there no others?!” She asked aghast, her eyes wide with terror. She’d never be able mount the beast, let alone ride it! To Cullen’s credit, he did seem to be doing his best to hide the small amused smile that was forming on his face due to her over the top reaction.

“He is the one you will be riding to The Hinterlands. It is important that you learn on the steed you will be using.” Cullen pet the steed once more, its dark fur shone brightly in the early morning sun, appearing more like polished steel than hair. “Maximus is a good steed. I picked him out specifically for you. Trust me, he’ll take good care of you.”

She trusted Cullen, she did. He was her Commander, he wouldn’t lead her astray. But _Maximus._ Maximus she did not trust. “But were there no others?!” She asked again, refusing to get near the fearsome beast. One fall, just one, and she’d be done for, she was sure of it.

“Not unless you wish to ride a pony into the Hinterlands.” He chuckled, a sound that was deep and breathy all at once.

Lola looked at him. “Why is that funny? Why would I not want to ride a pony?” She asked genuinely confused which only made him break out into a full on laugh. A sound that would’ve produced massive amounts of fluttering in her in stomach if said stomach wasn’t already bursting to rim with nervous energy. One day. She only had one day. The reality of the situation was setting in swiftly. “Gods, I will never learn in time! This was a horrible idea. I am so sorry, you’ve wasted your time, and efforts. It just can’t be done!” She was panicking. She knew, but she couldn’t stop herself. She only had one day. _One day_ to learn how to ride an animal that was multiple times larger than herself. And she _had_ to learn. She was “The Herald”. She couldn’t show up to The Hinterlands being reliant on someone else to get around. How would anyone ever believe that she could constitute change if she couldn’t even constitute her own ass on a damn horse. She was about to waste a full day and everyone’s time, as though they didn’t have anything better else to do… She was spiraling down into a black hole, negative thoughts were bombarding her. She thought was going to fall apart right there when:

“Herald…” Cullen’s voice broke through. She felt the weight of his hands on her shoulders, firm and assuring. Coming out of her thoughts she raised her eyes to his. His handsome face was gentle and full of concern. _There are beautiful flecks of bright gold in his eyes_ , she thought, half distracted.

“Lola..” she said, her voice low as though she had forgotten how to use it.

“I’m sorry?” He replied.

“Lola, please,” she said louder. “Everyone calls me _‘miss this’_ or _‘Herald that’_ , but I’m Lola. I’m just Lola.” She looked at him, doing her best to fight back the tears that were threatening their way out. _Wonderful, Lola. Cry in front of the man. Prove to him how unworthy you are to be depended upon._

“Ok. Lola.” He nodded, his golden eyes soft, understanding. “Look at me. It’s just us out here. Just you and I.”

“And Maximus.” Lola added, looking at the big black steed. His large dark eye focused back on her. He was beautiful, she’d give him that.

“Yes,” Cullen chuckled, a deep sound that made her smile. “And Maximus. The three of us will figure this out. You have my word.”

Lola nodded and patted at her eyes with the pads of her palms. No tears. At least she was able to hold that part of herself together. “Ok.” She took a deep breath and regathered herself. “Where do we start?”

Cullen looked to Maximus.

Lola sighed. “I need to get on it, don’t I?”

Cullen nodded. “That you do.”

“Alright.” She placed her hands on her hips and faced Maximus. She could do this. Maximus looked at her, his brow low on his eye. _Oh, so you doubt me as well, do you?_ Lola thought regarding the horse. She cocked her head to side. “So, how do I..?”

“Come.” Cullen said approaching her. “Allow me to..” He trailed off, his hands extending toward her waist.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”

* * *

Cullen reached out and gently gripped her waist. Warmth from her, once again, wrapping him up. Spell or not, he had imagined touching her would warm him. Upon first meeting her, he had felt her skin looked as though it had absorbed the sun rays, and it felt almost as though he was right. Her waist was one part of her body where her skin laid exposed through slits in her battle suit. Though he only held her for a moment, he almost found himself wishing he hadn’t worn gloves. He lifted her onto the horse, taking in the feeling of her weight in his hands. _One good blow. One good blow from the enemy is all it would take to send her flying._ Cullen, himself, would be able to throw her without much of an issue.

_Tossing her onto a bed for instance._

Thoughts of her allowing him to feel more than just the flesh at her waist flooded his mind. As soon as she was stable on the steed he removed his hands from her, mentally chasing away the intruding thoughts. _Herald. She is the Herald._ What has come over him? He backed away from her, cold immediately flooded him and his armor chasing away the warmth. 

Cullen spent the next few hours teaching Lola the basics. Correct posture, the correct way to communicate with the steed, how to increase speed, and how to make it yield. He was impressed. She was a quick learner and an attentive student. She asked all the right questions and made the proper adjustments when necessary. He rarely needed to repeat himself, not that it would’ve been a problem if he had, but he found her ability to learn new skills extraordinary. Perhaps it was due to the pressure she was under and the time constraints, either way he found himself enjoying his role as teacher.

“Please, Commander.” She repeated.

“ _Cullen.”_ He said, much preferring to hear his actual name on her lips. “If you’re _‘just Lola’_ then I’m just Cullen.”

“Ok, Cullen.” Lola said, looking down at him from atop Maximus. “I need more time.”

He was holding onto Maximus’s reins, walking beside him as he trotted along.

“You don’t, Lola. You’re more than ready to ride on your own. You’re a quick learner, you should be proud of yourself.”

Lola looked at him, her grey eyes large and pleading, a small pout on her full lips.

_Maker.._ how could he say no to that? Surely she knew what she was doing.

Cullen sighed and ran a gloved hand through his curls. He looked off into some imaginary point in the horizon, and felt his brows knit together as he thought. “Ok, what if I were to climb on with you?” He looked at her. “Would that suffice?”

She seemed to think this over. “Yes,” she said. She sounded relieved. A sharp wind blew by, whipping the curls that had fallen loose from the bunch in top of her head about. Cullen fought back a shiver as the cold bit into him, thankful that at least he’d be feeling her warmth once more.

“Alright.” He nodded his head. “But you _will_ have to ride alone at some point,” he said, his face serious. 

“Ok,” she responded, a little too quickly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, unconvinced. “Some point, as in _today. Before_ sunset.” He clarified. If it were anyone else he wouldn’t be too concerned, but clearly he was incapable of resisting her pouts and pleads.

“Yes, yes. Fine. Deal.” Lola said, nodding her head feverently. Though he was sure she would have agreed to anything to insure she wasn’t left alone on Maximus. 

“Ok.” He said, patting the horse’s backside. “I’m going to sit behind you. You’ll continue to have control over Maximus, but I’ll be able to take over if something goes awry. Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Alright.” He climbed up, slinging one foot over the the horse. He settled down onto Maximus, his body sliding into place directly behind hers. Her body being so near his quickly chased the chill away. He had never realized how cold he truly was until that very moment.

He felt her scoot forward, presumably to give him more room.

“No, Lola. You need to be further back. Being that far up won’t benefit you or Maximus.”

Lola scooted back a millimeter.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” He asked. Perhaps this was a mistake.

“No, no. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine.” He replied, and oddly enough he truly was. He had expected this to be awkward, but, so far, it seemed he had been concerned for nothing. Perhaps it was the instructor in him, but he was at ease.

“I said I’d teach you and that’s what I am doing.” He replied, his voice all business.

“Right. Of course. Teach away.”

“May I?” He asked, his hands hovering at her waist.

“Yes,” she said, but it was most certainly more of a squeak. 

He placed his hands at her waist, once again coming in contact with her exposed skin, his gloves preventing him for truly feeling her. “You need to be more like this-” With his hands on her waist he drew her back to him. A small gasp escaped her lips as her back came flushed up against his chest.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned her gasp meant he had been too rough.

She nodded, instead of outright answering. She was most definitely nervous. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself. He was not used to being the one that made beautiful women nervous. He was usually too busy being nervous himself, always so sure he’d do something to screw his chances up, and considering that he usually had, his nervousness was valid. Her reaction to his modest touches certainly boosted to his confidence, still that wasn’t his goal. He’d rather her be at ease, and needed to know whether or not her current position on Maximus was comfortable for her.

“Does it feel good?” He asked. He recoiled internally at his choice of words. “This position, I mean.” That wasn’t any better. “You need to be comfortable if you’re going to ride.” _Andraste save him._ When had his mind ended up in the gutter? He felt Lola trembling. No, shaking. She was laughing? An adorable child-like giggle erupted from her lips, her whole body moving with it.

And It was contagious.

Her laughter put him back at ease, and he soon found himself laughing along with her. He never laughed at himself, but it felt good, like a natural release of nervous energy. Perhaps he should do so more often.

“Laugh it up,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” She said between breaths, laughter still rolling out of her. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not, not really, but it’s ok.” He said setting off a new wave of laughter from her.

She arched into him as she laughed. Her head leaning back into his chest, and her rear pushing into him. His armor kept her from truly pushing into _him_ , but he felt the pressure all the same. He became keenly aware of the curve of her back. Her battle suit being snug enough that no curve was hidden from sight. Whatever focus he had immediately shattered.

“I’m sorry,” she said once again between laughter. “I laugh more when I’m nervous.”

“You’re not the one with the beautiful woman in their lap.” He muttered to himself rubbing at his neck, averting his gaze.

Lola’s laugh died down, and he realized with horror that he had spoken a little too loudly. It seems he was still perfectly capable of embarrassing himself, wonderful. She’d never want to finish the lessons with him now.

* * *

Lola wasn’t sure if she had heard him correctly, but before she had a chance to accurately react or respond, a scream for help ripped through the air. “Someone’s in trouble.” Lola breathed, the scream jolting her to her core.

Cullen wasted no time. He took the reins and control of Maximus, and they were off, racing toward the blood curdling cries.

Lola leaned forward the way he had taught her in an effort to remain seated on the steed. Not that she was in any danger of falling off, she was held firmly in place by Cullen’s arms on either side of her. Maximus sped along as though he were flying across the land instead of running. The horse swiftly jumped over large fallen branches and small ravines alike with ease, all under Cullen’s gentle but firm guidance.

There was smoke rising from the horizon, and as they neared it it became clear that it wasn’t just one person calling for help but multiple people. The anchor on Lola’s hand tingled, a feeling akin to when a limb falls asleep. A green light exploded out of the anchor, the air around it crackling as though electrified. Lola cried out, her arm on fire, it felt as though she had just been violently electrocuted.

“Lola?” Cullen called out, his muffled voice fighting against the air that whipped past them. Maximus’s confidence wavered as Cullen became distracted.

“I’m fine.” She lied, not wanting to further distract him, but her words only got lost in the wind. “Cullen, it’s a fade rift! We are racing toward a fade rift!”She cried out. Her heart raced along with Maximus as they neared the glowing tear in the sky. Cullen slowed the horse, stopping right outside of the forest clearing that the rift hovered over. The rift crackled in the sky, green tendrils broke off into smaller scars making the sky appear as though it was nothing more than shattered glass. Demons of all type stalked the ground beneath it. One blazing rage demon left flames behind that burnt every inch of ground it touched, the flames finding their way to a small huddle of houses only a few feet away from the rift. If they didn’t act the people and their homes would be gone, consumed by the ever growing flames, or snuffed out by the demons themselves. Cullen slipped off the horse, readying himself for battle.

“Cullen, can the two of us take them on alone?” Lola asked, still on Maximus.

Cullen unsheathed his sword and removed his shield from his back. He looked at the pandemonium in front of them. “Go, and get the others. I’ll hold them off.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, he ran directly into the chaos, immediately attacking the nearest demon.

Lola turned Maximus in the direction of The Chantry, but she couldn’t will herself to leave. She couldn’t leave Cullen here alone. Making up her mind she jumped of the horse, landing softly into a pile of dead leaves. She removed her daggers from their spots on her thighs and raced into the ensuing chaos. She threw herself in between Cullen’s back and the rage demon. Freezing the demon, she shattered it. Decimating it, she was able to keep it from setting anything else aflame.

Lola looked to Cullen, he blocked a blow from a terror demon before it disappeared into the ground.

“What are you doing here!?” He asked noticing to her presence.

“I wasn’t going to just leave you, Cullen. We have better chances of beating them together,” She replied. Her eyes tracking the movements of a shade. She felt the ground beneath her rumble, threatening to come undone. They both dived to the side just in time to avoid being attacked by the terror demon as it came flying out of the earth. Together they were able to smite the demon before it had a chance to disappear on them once more.

“Help” a voice called out. It was a child’s, a small girl’s. She was trapped between a wall of fire and a shade.

Lola let loose a stream of frost, putting out the fire while Cullen ran and shielded the child from the shade’s attacks. Once the fire was gone, Cullen scooped the child up and retreated with her to safety. Lola unleashed a series of attacks on the shade, smiting it for good, before turning to attack the next one.

“The flames, Lola!” Cullen’s voice called to her. “Use your magic to put out the flames!” Leaving the shade demon, Lola ran over to where the flames had begun to lick at homes. Cullen shielded Lola from the shade’s attacks as she extinguished the flames with blasts of frost. Standing back to back, Lola and Cullen braced themselves. The rift was crackling once more preparing to spew out a fresh horde of demons.

“We won’t make it. There’s too many.” Lola said, lifting her daggers in preparation.

“We will, because we have no choice.” Cullen responded right as green lightning hit the ground birthing more demons from thin air. Two rage demons, two shades, a terror demon, and a despair demon. Six demons, Lola counted. They couldn’t win like this. She needed to level the playing field. Lola dropped a dagger and ran into the middle of the field, directly into the center of the horde.

“What are you doing?!” Cullen yelled. His face a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. He moved to follow her.

“Stay there!” She yelled back.

She lifted her hand into the sky, and felt power building up from within, begging to be unleashed. With a twitch of her fingers she released it. Lightning rained down from the sky striking each demon, temporarily gluing them to the ground. Now was their chance. She turned to Cullen who tossed her dagger back to her. Somehow, they were in sync. Seeing the opportunity she allowed them, he wasted no time landing blow after blow to the now immobile demons. One smited, two smited. Lola began slashing at demons of her own, but the spell was wearing off and they were still grossly outnumbered. She wasn’t watching, wasn’t paying attention. Her focus was on rebuilding her manna but that was a mistake. She hadn’t felt the ground shake that time, and a terror demon sprang out of the ground its clawed fingers slicing through her arm like paper. She cried out a curse, and fell to her knees, blood immediately pouring forth.

“Lola!” Cullen called from across the field, within seconds he was by her side helping her back to her feet, but it didn’t matter. The demons were closing in on them, and without a full reserve a manna there wasn’t anything she could do to stop them.

“There!” A familiar voice called from the distance. “ I see them.” Lola looked toward the voice. It was Solas. And Varric. And Cassandra. She could hardly believe it. They raced onto the field, throwing themselves head first into the fight, pushing the demons back. Solas came to stand beside her. She looked at him in disbelief. “How did you know? How did you find us?”

“I felt it.” He said motioning to the anchor. “I felt you. Your distress. I followed the thread of emotions. It led us to you. It would seem, you and I are intwined.”

Lola’s head raced. How could that be? Was it the anchor? Of course it was, it had to be. But how? Was it because of Solas’s intimate connection to the fade? Or maybe because his use of magic that had stabilized the anchor?

“She’s injured.” Cullen said in between hits. He had only to focus on one demon now, and it was obvious how easy the handling of just one demon was for him.

Solas looked down at her arm. Blood was soaking through her leathers, her wounds were ghastly but shallow.

“I can heal these,” He said, placing his hand on her wounds. He closed his eyes, heat passed through his hand to her wound, within seconds her skin had closed. “Any deeper and we would’ve needed a proper healer.”

“Close the rift!” Cassandra called out. Lola looked around her and sure enough, all the demons had been demolished. The rest was up to her. She lifted her hand into the sky in the direction of the rift, and pulled on the string of energy she felt flowing out of the fade itself into the anchor. With one sharp tug, she slammed the rift closed. It crackled and with one last ear splitting pop, it was sealed.

They were immediately swarmed by people thanking them, sobbing, hugging them. One woman in particular threw her arms around Lola’s neck, tears streaming down her face. She was an older woman and had two small children clinging to her skirt. “Thank you,” the woman sobbed. Lola hugged her back. “Please don’t thank us. Of course we helped.” The woman’s clothing was thin and ragged, as were the clothing her children wore. Not at all proper for winter. Lola looked over to see Cullen being hugged by several women (sisters?) his arms stiffly by his side as he patiently waited for them to release him. His eyes met hers. She gave him a smile. They did well, they had worked well together. As though understand her thoughts, and despite his apparent discomfort, he smiled back.

“Alright, Herald. We should be heading back.” Cassandra said.

The older woman let go of Lola, her eyes growing wide. “You’re the Herald? The Herald of Andraste?”

Lola sputtered, unsure of how to answer. Technically she was, yes, but not _really_.

“That she is!” Grinned Varric, fully understanding what his confirmation was inciting. Lola glared daggers at the dwarf. The crowd of people gasped and encircled Lola, all their voices mingling together. Lola looked to Cullen, unsure of how to handle the situation,but he was knelt beside a small child who was admiring his shiny shield. Lola smiled to herself, he looked handsome kneeling there beside the small child. His golden hair caught the sun in a way that made it seem he wore a halo. He looked every inch the definition of a hero. It was him they should be thanking, not her. The crowd continued to encircle her, all reaching and talking to her at once. Thankfully, though, Solas was nearby, he slipped through the crowd, found his way beside her.

“Thank you everyone for your kind words. The Herald has had an unexpectedly long day and arduous day. She will heading back now.” Solas placed an arm around her and steered her out and away from the crowd. She hadn’t liked being swarmed, but leaving so abruptly didn’t feel right either.

“One second,” Lola said breaking away from Solas, an idea dawning upon her. “Please,” she said to the crowd. “Join us at The Chantry. We have plenty of room, food, clothing. You and your children will be safe there, looked after.”

Cullen stood up at the sound of that, his eyes on her. The chattering fell into an uncomfortable silence. Lola quickly went over to where Cullen stood. “This man is our Commander, he and his soldiers are posted there. Along with the rest of my comrades.” Lola motioned to the group behind her. “You’ll be safe.” She repeated, helplessly. She had never spoken to a crowd, she felt horribly inadequate and ill equipped to accurately convey how important it was that they relocate.The group of people mumbled amongst themselves. They took so long to answer that Lola began to wonder if she had said something wrong.

“Thank you, Herald, but we can’t abandon on our homes. This is our land. We won’t leave it.”

Lola’s heart fell a bit at that. She wasn’t sure how long they’d last on their own, out here in the cold, and now broken world.

“Of course, I understand.” Lola said. Cullen placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Perhaps we could visit then? If not myself, personally, I can send soldiers now and then to check up on you and deliver food, goods. Until you’re securely back on your feet.” Cullen said to the crowd.

“We would appreciate that.” The crowd nodded in unison.

“Good.” Cullen smiled. Lola was beginning to learn how very rare those smiles were. “We will send some men right away to attend to your homes. They took some damage but nothing that can’t be repaired.”

“Very good.” Cassandra said, speaking up. “We shall be on our way back to send aid immediately. It is getting late and The Herald has a big day ahead of her.”

It was true. The sun was slowly beginning to dip below the horizon.

“You did well today, Lethallan.” Solas said walking beside her, his dark locs tied back.

“I suppose it was a small taste of what’s to come.” Lola said, feeling more unsure of herself than ever before.

“That it is,” Solas replied. He mounted his horse, his lithe body easily and swiftly finding it’s way onto the saddle. “There’s room, if you’d like.” He said, offering a spot behind him on his horse.

“Umm..” Lola looked behind her, everyone had already mounted heir steeds, except Cullen. At some point all the children had picked up sticks and Cullen had began giving them mock sword lessons. She smiled. How could one man be so intimidating and so incredibly adorable all at once? 

“The connection we share through the anchor warrants research, I wish to be better understand it before our departure.”

“It does.” She said absently. “I’ll be sure to visit you later, if that’s alright with you. I wish to finish my lessons with the Commander first.”

Solas looked from her to Cullen, a small frown on his face. “As you wish.” He responded before riding off with the others.

Lola peered down at her anchor. She’d worried about it later. Right now, she had other things she’d rather focus on. She walked up to Cullen and joined him among the children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Sorry it took so long, the next chapter should be out much sooner.


	8. Just A Little Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finds reading Lola’s field reports...enlightening. 
> 
> Leliana wheedles the truth out of him.

It had been exactly one month since she departed. A month since he last saw her.

She had stopped by his room early in the morning, right before she was to journey out to The Hinterlands. He was up. He usually was. He rarely slept. He did his best thinking at night. When most motion had ceased, and the world around him was silent. His mind, usually filled with plans and battle strategies, began to slip now and again to Lola. To her warmth. He missed her warmth.

By the time they had left the small community near the rift they had sealed, it was sinfully late. He had been caught up in playing with the children. Having had just seen demons spilling from a sky split open, it was safe to say they were terrified. None were hurt, but they were all understandably unnerved. He’d wager that it’d be some time before those children ever slept soundly again. Furthermore, he had insisted on waiting in the village until his soldiers arrived with the materials necessary to patch the homes. If Haven was bitterly cold during the day, it was downright frigid at night. He couldn’t sleep unless he knew for certain these people had a warm place to lay their own heads, and since they had refused Lola’s offer to join them at the Chantry, there was no other option than to mend their homes. When his soldiers finally had arrived, Cullen then insisted on helping them rebuild. As tiny as the whole village was, it couldn’t be rebuilt in one night, but together they could mend the homes well enough to keep the inhabitants warm.

Lola had asked some soldiers to travel back to The Chantry once more, requesting for them to return with wool blankets, thicker clothing, and some food. The soldiers had immediately looked to him, not used to taking orders or requests from anyone else.

“Listen to The Herald, as you would listen to me.” He had ordered them. They nodded and went on their way, returning with the requested articles.

Throughout the night, Cullen had tried multiple times to send Lola back to camp as well. He’d be fine, he told her, his soldiers would bring him a steed to return on. After all, she had to be up early, she had a long journey ahead of her. And Solas. She had Solas waiting up for her...but each time he had insisted she head back, she had insisted on staying. He had even tried to _order_ her back, as her Commander. She only dug her heels in deeper.

“When you head back, I’ll head back. We’ll head back together. Not a moment sooner,” she said, her arms crossed and gaze even.

He found himself being simultaneously pleased and frustrated by her response. Seems she could be as stubborn as he was constantly accused of being.

In truth, her presence was welcomed. Somehow the long night felt shorter. Even the physical drain of rebuilding the homes was lessened. She regaled the children with stories of her time with her clan, and took no offense to their intrusive and rigid questioning. Once or twice she’d catch him chuckling at her tale along with the children, it was obvious that she was embellishing details for their enjoyment. His eyes would meet hers across the fire and she’d laugh at herself knowing he had heard her, then they’d share a smile that felt incredibly intimate.

She had kept the area pleasantly warm with magic. Under normal circumstances he would’ve been against it but these weren’t normal circumstances. There were others to consider. It wasn’t about him. The children needed to stay warm, and his soldiers certainly seemed glad for the warmth. They worked harder, needed less prodding and direction than usual. While Cullen was just glad that they had stopped looking at her in an inappropriate way. He hadn’t needed to glare at any of his men behind her back, at least not for too long.

He had returned tired that night, but wide awake. So yes, he was up when she came knocking. Cullen never received visitors. Had he known it was her knocking, he wouldn’t have been without a shirt when he had answered. He had roughly swung the door open expecting it to be one of his men, and growled out an undeniably annoyed “ _What?_ ” that would had chased most people away apologizing repeatedly with their tails between their legs, but not her. She just stood there and smiled. The early morning sun illuminating her from behind.

“Not much of a morning person, Commander?” She chuckled, cocking her head and hip to the side. He actually was a morning person. Just not that particular morning. He felt foolish and apologized and they spoke for a moment, of what he couldn’t recall, surely some pleasantries were exchanged. What he could recall with keen detail was how her snow colored eyes kept flitting down to his bare chest. They wouldn’t linger very long. It was only for moments at a time. They would slide down and she would haul them back up to his face again. Slowly, as though action were difficult. There was no denying that she was a bit...distracted. The moment passed quickly, and the act was so small. But it had ignited something in him. Something he hadn’t felt in some time. An overwhelming urge, a desire, to touch and be touched. He knew with absolute certainty that if she would’ve reach out and touched him in that moment, he would’ve let her. He would’ve pulled her into his room and sought out more. The thought terrified and exhilarated him all at once. He had forgotten how completely torturous having a crush was.

_A crush._

Was that what this was? A crush?

She had asked him to write to her, he remembered that. She had said she would like to know how the villagers were doing and how their homes were coming along. He said, he would. Though he had yet to do so. The truth was, he wasn’t one for writing letters. His sisters could attest to that. Words felt heavy in his mouth, slippery. They were constantly evading him. It felt as though none could ever fully explain how he was feeling or what he was thinking, and they weren’t any less elusive when put on paper. He felt slightly guilty about it. Saying he’d write, knowing he wouldn’t. Though to be fair, she hadn’t written him either. Though, to be even more fair, she was most likely much too busy to write him even if she truly desired to do so.

Fortunately, he had the reports.

Cullen was now in Josephine’s work room reading them. They received the reports once a week by way of raven. There were two sets; one written by Lola herself, and a second written _about_ Lola by those ordered to report on her performance. Among those charged with keeping an eye on her was Cassandra. It felt dishonest, having her surveillanced without her knowledge, but Leliana had insisted, and perhaps on some level he knew it was wise.

He waited for the day after the reports arrived to review them in the hopes of not appearing overly eager, fully aware that Leliana was watching even when she ‘wasn't’.

“How is our girl doing?” Leliana asked startling him.

“Maker!” He exclaimed. She was entirely too quiet. She chuckled and stood beside him. These women would be the death of him, he just knew it. He did his best not to look guilty. Because, honestly, he had nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t odd that he was looking the reports over. As an advisor he was more than welcomed to, expected to even. Still, because his reasons were more personal than professional, he preferred to read them alone and in relative secret.

“She seems to be acclimating as well as could be expected,” He responded, his voice professional with a hint of disinterest. “Maybe even better than expected by some accounts.”

“So, I’ve read.”Leliana nodded, looking over his shoulder at the reports. “And what do _you_ think of her, Commander?” Leliana inquired.

Cullen stiffened in his chair sure this was a trap of some sort.

“Erhm, uh.. Me? You’re asking me?”

“Yes, your opinion of her matters, Cullen, and I’ve yet to hear it.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen enough of her to form a solid opinion.” He lied. Which was a futile action around a Spymaster.

“She’s quite attractive, is she not?” Leliana asked. She was now leaning on the back of his chair, flipping through the report on the desk in front of him, entirely too close for his liking.

“I - I hadn’t noticed.” Cullen mumbled, avoiding her probing gaze.

“Hmmm..yes, I suppose depending on one’s taste an attractive woman could be found anywhere. But our Lola isn’t just a nameless face. She is _The Herald,_ and with a face like hers...” Leilana trailed off, clicking her tongue.

Cullen kept his eyes glued to the paper. Worried that his tongue might betray him, he chose to keep silent.

“I find her looks to be distracting. Do you find her looks distracting?” Leliana asked, she rounded the desk to stand in front of him. “Because here we are discussing her looks rather than her attributes.”

Cullen was about to point out that _he_ was in fact _not_ the one discussing Lola’s looks when Josephine walked in.

“Oh! Good, just the two I was looking for!” She looked at the reports on her desk. “Splendid, you’re reading the most recent reports.” Josephine moved to stand beside Leliana. “I’ve received word that they’ll be back by the end of the week, assuming nothing goes wrong. Nothing but good things have been reported back on Mistress Lavellan.” Josephine nodded to herself, seemingly pleased, but then began pacing the room, taking small harried steps and gripping her quill pen much firmer than necessary. She seemed to be considering her next words very carefully.

“Josie. Just say it.” Leliana said. Josephine looked around the tiny room as though eavesdroppers were hiding in its small corners. Satisfied that none were to be found, she slowly closed the door and said, “She’s attractive, yes?”

Leliana approached Josephine excitedly. “Yes! Cullen and I were just discussing how -”

“No.” Cullen said cutting her off. “No. _We_ were not.” He stood up from the desk.

Leliana looked at him, unconvinced. “You need not _speak_ _the_ _words_ for me to know that you agree, Commander.”

Cullen stubbornly held her gaze, refusing to have words placed in his mouth. Spymaster intuition be damned. While Josephine looked back and forth between the two of them, clearly confused.

“What? what is going on?” Josephine asked.

He felt himself angering, though why, he couldn’t say. He considered leaving the room, but in the end his curiosity trumped his embarrassment. He relented with a sigh and sat back down in Josephine’s chair, all but confirming Leliana suspicions. 

So what if Leliana knew he found Lola to be attractive? Was he not a man? Did he not have eyes? If they were able to see it, so was he.

 _Yes, and the first woman you’ve been attracted to in years happens to be eerily similar to the one from your youth. You have a type._ Cullen scowled at his own thoughts.

“What??” Josephine asked again.

“Nothing.” Leliana and Cullen responded in unison, clearly peeved with one another.

“Truly, it’s nothing, Josie.” Leliana waved her hand dismissively. “It’s only that we worry-” Cullen shot her a look. “That is to say, _I_ worry that at worst, her appearance may impede the believability that she is Andraste’s herald, and at best, make it difficult for the Inquisition to be taken seriously.”

“Yes, yes” Josephine was now pacing, deep in thought, tapping her quill pen absently on her clipboard with both Leliana’s and Cullen’s gaze following her strides. “And those battle suits... racy, no?”

 _That’s one way of putting it,_ Cullen thought. A fool’s smirk forming on his face. He wiped it off immediately upon seeing Leliana looking his way. Josephine oblivious to the exchange continued to pace energetically around the room.

“No!” Josephine said suddenly, stopping in her tracks, startling both Leliana and himself. “No, this is good!” She turned to them, eyes practically aglow.

“How so?” Leliana asked.

“Well, the thing about Lavellan isn’t her looks per se. It’s not as though one needs to be unattractive in order to be considered the Herald.” Josephine laughed to herself with a small snort “No, the _issue_ , for lack of a better word, is more in the way she carries herself, presents herself. It’s her… well, it’s her...” Josephine motioned to her own body, moving her hand dramatically from her head to her toes. She cocked her hip to one side, and blinked furiously.

Cullen wanted to chuckle but refrained. Insanely enough, he understood exactly what Josie was attempting to say.

Leliana giggled. “Josie, what are you doing?”

“I’m batting my eyelashes.” Josephine laughed in return. “Come now, you must know what I mean.”

Leliana shook her head. “I haven’t the faintest…”

“You know, her...her. How do I put this?” Josephine blushed, clearly uncomfortable.

Cullen groaned and placed his head in his hands. He knew what she was getting at, if he didn’t speak up they’d be there forever.

“Her sex appeal.” He blurted out, throwing his hands up in defeat. Both women turned to him, as he knew they would.

“Her sex appeal?” Leliana repeated in faux ignorance, that small knowing smile she constantly wore returning to her face. A clear message behind it: _I told you I knew._ He growled to himself in frustration. Oh, she was just loving this.

“Yes.” Josephine said, looking at him in surprise. “It’s that. You look at her and think of...” Josephine looked at Cullen again. She was blushing, again, and hoping he’d help her out, again. 

“Think of…” Cullen hesitated, did he truly wish to admit this to them?

Both women stared at him, waiting patiently for him to continue. He sighed. _“Sex._ You see her and think about sex... with her.” Cullen rubbed his neck, and avoided making eye contact. They were gawking. He could _feel_ them gawking. This was ridiculous, they were being ridiculous. “Maker! I’m an _ex-templar,_ not an _ex-clergyman._ We wereallowed to have relations.” He crossed his arms. “ _Andraste_ , I’m not a eunuch. I’m not immune to a woman’s appeal.” He was grumbling. He sounded like a cranky child.

“No! No, of course not!” Josephine stuttered. She and Leliana locked eyes, both stifling a small laugh.

“But, yes, Cullen is right. It’s her... _sex appeal_ that is the true issue. I’ve heard talk among the soldiers, they mimic Cullen’s sentiments, but with more ...colorful language.” Josephine said, blushing once more. She said the words ‘sex appeal’ as though the words themselves tasted odd in her mouth. Cullen fumed silently. He had thought his men had calmed down. This wouldn’t do. “But!” She added cheerfully. “I believe this could work to our advantage!”

“How so?” Leliana asked.

“Well, as the Herald she will be consorting with monarchs, and the politically powerful. Her charm is undeniable. It would need to be polished, refined but...” Josephine wrote it down as though she might forget. “-but imagine! She bats a pretty eye, lightly touches a shoulder, gives a small pout with those pouty lips...”

“And a potential ally becomes putty.” Leliana said, understanding. A glint in her eye. She approved. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t deny they were onto something. Afterall, it had worked on him.

“Yes! And! _And_ ..we will be _underestimated._ All reports sent to us mention that she is clever, more clever than one would initially assume. She can play ignorant when necessary..”

Leliana made a face of disgust.

“I know,” Josephine added. “I’m not crazy about objectifying another woman either but -”

“But it could work.” Leliana agreed. “It could most certainly work. Hopefully, she will be up for some exploitation.”

“Yes, well, allow me to speak to her about it.” Josephine insisted, scribbling on her clipboard once more.

“The good news is she seems to be of good humor. She might find it a bit of fun sport.” Leliana added with a shrug. Cullen cleared his voice. He wasn’t crazy about where this conversation had headed. The thought of her flirting with rich and powerful men didn’t sit well with him. Innocent flirtation to some of those men was considered an open invitation for _more._ And _no_ was not a word they were familiar with _._

“Well, yes, now that this is settled. I’ll be on my way.” Cullen rose and went to the door. He was about to exit when Josephine called to him.

“Oh, Cullen! I almost forgot. Did you reach the part in the report where Cassandra requests that you train Lavellan?”

Cullen turned back to them. “No. I had not,” he said.

“She wrote that Mistress Lavellan relies heavily on her daggers. More than you would expect a mage to. She doesn’t even carry a staff.”

“Yes,” Cullen said, thinking back to their round of sparring, as well their fight to close the rift. “And?” he asked.

“And she needs training. She is fighting many templars out there, and although she is holding her own, she is not as adept as she could be.”

“ I don’t deal with daggers…. _ah_ , you want me to familiarize her with Templar fighting tactics.” He thought for a moment. He had desired to train her anyway. “Alright, send her my way when she returns. I’ll put aside some time to train her.”

“Thank you, Cullen,” Josephine said.

Cullen left the room, closing the door behind him, only for it to bounce back open slightly. He could hear the women continuing their conversation clearly from where he stood outside the door. Out of sight. He looked around. The Chantry corridor was empty. It wasn’t really eavesdropping if it was information he would have heard anyway, right?

“So?” He heard Josephine say. 

“Nothing. I could not find a single thing on her background. I should have a whole file on her by now. But nothing.” Leliana replied, frustrated.

“Well, we will have to take great strides to get to know her better upon her arrival. Cassandra seems to approve of her so far.”

“Yes, but I’m not giving up. I will have my men dig deeper. If there is something to be found, I will find it.”

Silence.

“There is one thing that is bothering me above all else.” Josephine said, slowly.

“Yes, the apostate.” Leliana seemed to agree.

“Cassandra reports that Solas has taken... _a liking to her_.”

“And her to him.”

Cullen’s heart sank. Could it be true? Has the elf already won her over? Solas had a clear advantage, there was much she had in common with him. Both, mages, apostates. And they shared heritage. Not to mention the extensive amount of time they spent together traveling. Could he truly be so surprised?

“The Herald involved with an apostate elf?” Josephine questioned. Cullen could picture Josephine shaking her head in disapproval. “No, that certainly won’t do.”

“In all fairness, the reports never explicitly say that they are _involved_ , just that they are ‘ _enjoying each other’s company’_. Cassandra would have specified if it was something more.” Leliana said.

Cullen’s heart sped up. He still had a chance. He shook his head, what was he thinking?? _A chance?_ A chance at what exactly??

 _You know exactly what,_ a voice within answered back to him.

Images of her bending over the war table in that leather battle suit came back to him, of her winter colored eyes snaking down his bare chest. He shook his head. Hard. As though the rough movement would cause the thoughts to just drop out his mind. He ran his hand through his hair, and sighed. Yes, she had awoken something that had long laid dormant within him. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do with these emotions.

He strode away from the door. He had heard enough. They were to be returning in three days. That gave him three days to get his head together.

 _You barely know her._ But what he did know, he liked.

 _Still,_ he insisted to himself, _once you get to know her, truly get to know her_...he was sure the feeling would fade.

She was sure to be all looks and nothing more.

* * *

Cullen returned to his quarters. He should be returning to the field, but he had a good Lieutenant. Cullen was confident his Lieutenant was doing a fine job looking after the men in his absence. Cullen’s room was in the Chantry. It was a single room. Many were forced to share, but his title was important enough to warrant privacy, which he was thankful for. It was small, and sparse, but he didn’t need much. There was a wooden bed, and a wooden desk, and a simple rug laid across the wooden floor. The desk was overflowing with papers, and to anyone it would seem an incoherent mess, but there was order there. He could find what he needed, when he needed it. That was why he was able to right away spot something there that wasn’t previously. A parchment, rolled up, tied with a purple ribbon. It seemed to be perched delicately on top of all the other documents. Someone had delivered it to his room. He strode over and took it into his hand. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he pulled the ribbon open. It was a letter, from Lola.

_Commander,_

_So you’re not a morning person and you’re not the type to write. The list of things I am learning about you grows by the day._

_Hopefully, you won’t mind me writing to you then._

_You had been right. Maximus is a wonderful steed. Well behaved, regal, beautiful and strong. He’s as gentle as he is fierce, and seems to innately know when to be which. Riding him has been a joy, and, at times , even a respite._

_He was your steed, was he not? Cassandra had relayed her surprise. Apparently, you have never let anyone on your steed._

_No one except me._ _Thank you for trusting me with him._

_If I had known he was yours, I would’ve insisted on another, but now that I have ridden him, and traveled with him, I’m afraid I’ll have to keep him. Or perhaps we should share custody?_

_I jest. He is yours. But I have enjoyed my time with him._

_Speaking of Cassandra, I’m aware that she is sending reports back to you and the others on me._

_It’s fine. I understand the need. I am technically a stranger amongst your ranks. They’re wise to be cautious._

_But, unbeknownst to Cassandra, I do read those reports before they are sent out. Though, I assure you that I don’t change a single word. In fact, I only mention this because I’m aware of what she wrote to you all concerning Solas._

_Solas has been kind to me, and an asset to the party. He has taken me under his wing as a teacher does a prized pupil, but that’s it. There is nothing more between us. The others can think what they want, but I wanted to make that clear to you. Make of it what you will._

_Lolani-Wolfe_

Cullen re-read the letter once more before folding it up and placing it inside his desk. He returned to the field with something his soldiers had never seen on him.

A smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate that it takes me so long to post new chapters, and I am hoping to remedy that, but life is annoying persistent. Thank you to those hanging in there with me. I really enjoy sharing this story with you. 
> 
> I really enjoy the idea of Cullen having this sort of raw desire that he just suppresses, and tries to ignores. From guilt, from shame, due to what he experienced in the Circle as a Templar when he was younger. The natural desire to want to be with someone that you’re attracted to.
> 
> More coming soon!


	9. Minx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola earns herself a nickname.
> 
> Solas makes his move.
> 
> Chancellor Roderick causes problems.

It had been a long day, but Lola still wasn’t done.

”Lucky for me, I’ve got you Maximus,” she crooned to the midnight colored horse. She had taken to grooming Maximus nightly. Finding the act of repeatedly running a brush over his silky body meditative. While her hands were busy, her mind was free to wander. Mentally unpacking the day’s successes and failures, and naturally, lingering more on the latter.

“Maximus?” Cassandra asked from her spot by the fire. The Hinterland’s nights were warm, pleasantly so, rendering the heat from the fire useless. Still, every night they lit one. The bonfire serving as a communal gathering area as well as a sufficient source of light.

“Yes,” Lola responded, answering Cassandra. “This is Maximus. Though, Black Beauty would have been more apt. Isn’t that right, Maxie?” The horse nickered in response.

“I thought he looked familiar,” Cassandra said, walking up to them. She patted Maximus’s muzzle. “Maximus is Cullen’s personal steed.”

Lola paused. “That can’t be right.” The Commander didn’t seem the type to share something that was personally his. “Are you sure?” He had picked Maximus out specifically for her. They had been a perfect fit.

“I am positive,” Cassandra said. “ I have long admired Maximus. Cullen and I had flipped a coin for Maximus when he was first brought to us.” She continued to pet the horse. “We both saw raw potential in him. Cullen had won, and has never let another touch Maximus since. And yet, he has allowed you to ride him. I wonder why that is.” Cassandra looked at her pointedly as though genuinely perturbed by the situation.

“I’m sure it’s only because I’m the ‘face’ of the Inquisition.” Lola replied, avoiding Cassandra’s prying gaze. The last thing she wanted were rumors. The Commander and her had had a rocky start. False gossip would only shatter the trust they were beginning to build, she was sure of it. Lola stopped brushing Maximus, allowing one of the Inquisition soldiers to take him to their makeshift stable.

Cassandra crossed her arms and watched the horse as it was led away. Her dark brows knitting together. She was truly peeved. “He would not let me so much as pet Maximus,” Cassandra grumbled before walking off in the direction of her tent. “I will be having a chat with the Commander upon our return.”

“What’s this about you riding Curly’s horse?” Varric asked as Cassandra walked briskly past him.

“How can you even tell them apart??” Lola asked throwing her hands in the air with defeat.

Varric raised his eyebrows in surprise. “So that _was_ Maximus?” He laughed, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the horse. “You minx! You got him to handover the best horse in the Inquisition!” Varric looked genuinely impressed. “ See, I thought that horse looked familiar but thought _‘nah, couldn’t be.’_ Because Curly handing over Maximus.” Varric shook his head. “Well, Minx, that would be like me sharing Bianca.”

“Well, you don’t share Bianca,” Lola began. “Wait. _Minx_?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” Varric continued ignoring her question. “I may have allowed one truly impressive woman to touch my precious Bianca.”

Lola eyed him. “This is beginning to sound oddly sexual.”

Varric looked up at her knowingly.

“No.” She said, firmly, wanting to put all thoughts of her and Cullen out of his head.

“An ex-Templar and an Apostate. Now, that’ll make a good story.”

“Varric…” she warned. He was such an instigator. If anyone was apt to starting rumors it was him.

“Then again, so would a story of two apostates during a religious uprising,” Varric said his gaze shifting behind her.

“What?” Lola asked, turning to see Solas walking up to them. His dark locs were pulled back and out of his face, and he had changed out of his armor into riding clothing. With his pack in hand and horse trailing behind him, he looked prepared to leave camp that very moment.

“Leaving, Chuckles?”

“As per our agreement.” Solas responded, referring to his earlier talk with her. Solas had been eager to return to Haven since he had last felt the pull of the anchor through her. There had been no time to research how this connection between them existed or why. “I need to return to my books,” he said. She agreed that after two weeks Solas was free to leave. It had been a little over a month. She hadn’t brought it up, hoping he would change his mind. His aid has been invaluable. Plus, she’d miss his company.

“Surely you could stay a few more days, Chuckles. Those books of yours aren’t going anywhere.”

Solas looked down at Varric. “No, they aren’t. But we have yet to identify our enemy. If I can sense Lola through the anchor, there is a high chance others may be able to as well. I’d like to find them before they find us.”

“Can’t you do your fade thing and just see them?”

“My _‘fade thing?_ ” Solas asked. “No, Tethras. I cannot just do my _fade thing_ and see them.”

“That isn’t quite how that works, Varric.” Lola added, stifling a laugh. She didn’t want to add to Solas’s sour mood. There were times when Solas was jovial and playful, and then there were times, much like this one, when he was stoic and aloof. She was learning how to deal with each side of him as they came. The serious version of Solas was much harder to sway, but she had quickly learned he appreciated having his ego stroked.

“Fine,” Varric said. “But I’m not crazy to say that we need everyone here, am I? The grumpy elf included?”

Solas shot him a look. “This _grumpy elf_ has no need for comments, Dwarf.”

Varric held his hands up in defeat. “Hey. Whatever you say, Chuckles.” He gave Lola a look that clearly said ‘you deal with him.’

Solas turned to her. “Lola,” he began, his voice softening. “I absolutely cannot spend an extra day here.”

“Solas, we had an agreement. I’ll honor it.”

“Thank you, Herald. I had no doubts.” He hitched his backpack up on his shoulder, readying himself to leave.

“Varric,” she began, she had an idea. “I want to visit those orbs I heard about. I was told they may be Elven but we can’t be sure until we see them.”

“The orbs are indeed Elven. I know that which you speak of.”

“Oh, splendid. Thank you, Solas. I suppose we should try and bring one back with us.“ Lola said, once again aiming the conversation to Varric. “To study.”

“No. No. They must remain where they are. They are to be activated. Not removed.” Solas responded.

“Good to know,” Lola responded. She turned back to Varric. “Between the three of us we should be able to figure out how to activate it.”

“I’m sure a swift whack will do the trick,” Varric said, catching on.

“No. No, you do not _whack_ the orb!” Solas said, placing his pack on the floor.

Lola looked from his pack to him. “Solas, shouldn’t you be on your way? It’s getting late.”

“Lola, do not allow the dwarf to strike the orb.” Solas responded, ignoring her question.

“Solas, I’m perfectly capable of activating an Elven orb.”

He looked relieved. “Of course. Of course you are. Forgive me. I’ll be on my way now.” He lifted his pack and once again began to leave.

“Though I did accidentally break the last artifact we retrieved,” she said. She hadn’t. There had been no artifact.

“Yea, but Elven artifacts are heftier. Should be more difficult to break. We’ll be fine.” Varric added.

“Mythal, save me.” Solas mumbled, returning to them. “Elven artifacts are not heftier! If anything they are more fragile. It takes the right amount of magic and pressure to activate them. Too little and they will not work. Too much and they will shatter.”

“Damn it,” Lola said, making a show of biting her lip in mock thought. She looked up to Solas. Who was looking down at her intensely. “Solas, are you absolutely sure you can’t stay an extra day or two? Just to teach me how to effectively activate the orb. If anyone could apply the correct amount of pressure it’d be you.” Solas placed his pack back down with a sigh. He looked from her to his horse. “I know you’re concerned about the mark, and you don’t have your tomes here for reference, but, perhaps we could still attempt to test the limits of our connection? Possibly even spend the night exploring it? That is, if you’re interested.” She heard Varric cough from behind Solas: “ _Minx_.” She shot him a look.

Solas narrowed his eyes at her and moved to close the gap between them. “ _Lethalan_ , you think me a fool?” His tone was serious but there was an amused glint in his eye. “Within the first minutes of our first conversation, I knew you to be intelligent.”

Lola looked away. She should’ve known. Solas was far too intuitive to fall for such an act.

He took her chin in his hand, his long fingers grasping at her gently, forcing her eyes to his. His eyes were a startling blue. She had never noticed. 

“This incompetent damsel act is beneath you. Though, I could imagine effective. Especially that little pout.” His eyes flicked to her lips, the edge of his own pulling up in a smirk.

She pulled her head from his hands, heat rising to her face. “Will you be staying or not?”

Solas smiled down at her, looking very much like a grinning wolf. “I’ll stay, _Lethalan_. Though all you had to do was ask.” He said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

“I asked!” Varric called from behind them breaking the building tension.

“ _You’re_ not The Herald.” Solas said, turning to him. He picked up his pack and headed back toward his tent. “Come to my tent when you’re ready, so we could _test our connection_ , _Lethalan_.” He called over his shoulder.

She fought off the rising wave of embarrassment. He was giving her a taste of her own medicine.

“Oh, it has _nothing_ to do with her being The Herald!” He called to Solas. “It has _nothing_ to do with you being The Herald, Minx.” He repeated to her.

“Minx?” She asked, giving Varric her attention. “Oh no, is that to be my nickname?”

“Yea.” He nodded. “I think it is.”

“Fan- _fucking_ -tastic.”

> * * *

It was long past midnight when Lola finally peeked into Solas’s tent. She was half hoping he’d be asleep, and she could just return to her own tent.

“Enter, _Lethallan_ ,” Solas’s voice called from inside. “Were you hoping to avoid me?” He asked, his face coming into view.

“Not entirely..” She walked over to where Solas sat by a small wooden table.

He had requested one of the larger tents to bed in. Like her own tent, it was large enough to fit a cot rather than a bed roll, along with a small wooden table and two stools. There was a lantern atop the table, and it gave off a soft warm glow, just bright enough to illuminate their faces.

“I apologize for my behavior earlier,” she said settling into the stool across from him. “It’s a poor habit I have yet to break.”

His locs were set free from their earlier confinement and everytime he looked down one would swing into his face.

Lola removed the hair tie from her own hair, rounded the table and tied his locs back. He had the sides shaved so there wasn’t an abundant amount of hair to grab. She returned to her stool. Solas’s gaze following her.

“Did you just -?” Solas looked astonished. “Is it also a habit of yours to tie back men’s hair?”

Lola looked at him, appalled. “Oh, Creators.Did I just-?” She covered her face with her hands, embarrassment enveloping her. “Yes, apparently it is.”

“Please. Enlighten me.“ Solas looked at her, his face a mixture of amusement and interest, as though she’d make a fascinating study. “How does one make a habit of becoming a coquette?” 

“Coquette is a strong word.” She said, wincing.

“Though entirely accurate.”

Lola inhaled dramatically unsure of where to begin. “It’s not a very interesting story,” she warned, hoping he’d drop it.

“I assure you, Lolani- Wolfe. Any story of yours has my full attention. Please.” He motioned for her to begin.

“ _Alright_ ….In the Circle I had to depend on others to receive what I needed. If I wanted a meal, I couldn’t simply just go to the kitchen to cook it. I had to wait for the designated hour, to be escorted by a Templar to the designated dining area, to eat whatever meal was scheduled that day...you get the point. So, say, if I was hungry in the middle of the night, which I often was, the only way I could get extra food was if a Templar was in a particularly magnanimous mood.”

“Most Templars are men,” Solas said, understanding.

Lola nodded. “I learned how to make sure they were always in a magnanimous mood. A compliment, a small pout.. it could take a girl a long way.” She said looking at her hands on her lap. She wasn’t proud, it wasn’t sport. It was survival.

“I see.”

“Extra food. Extra shower time. A few more minutes outdoors,” she said, returning her gaze to his. “It may not sound like much, but it was as close to freedom I could get. It kept me sane. Kept me from burning the whole damn place down.” She detested the Circle, with every fiber of being. She absolutely abhorred it.

She saw Solas’s gaze flit down to hands. They were in fists. She forced herself to release them.

“I can’t imagine that went unnoticed by the other mages.”

“It didn’t. But now and again I was able to win over things for others as well. So, if they were complaints. It certainly wasn’t to my face.” It wasn’t the mages that took her actions for more than what they were. She pushed the memory down. _You’re no longer there._ She reminded herself. _You did what was necessary to survive._

Solas nodded slowly. “And the hair?” He asked pointing to his locs.

“Oh, well that has more to do with one specific man.” Nostalgia filled her when she thought about him. Blonde, hair to his shoulders. A mage that did the impossible: escape.

“Is that all the explanation I’m privy to?” He asked. He placed his elbows on the table, leaning forward, toward her. His eyes shining like two newly polished sapphires. The lamp light between them illuminating every sharp angle on his face. Solas looked carved from stone.

She pushed her now free curls off her shoulders. “It’s not of interest.” She replied simply. He had hated the Circle with such a ferocity, it was as though he carried around an internal inferno. And she had been drawn to it like a moth to flame. She should’ve left with him. Escaped. Would she still be here if she had? The Herald of an Inquisition?

“Were you in love with him?”

Lola scoffed. An empty, angry sound. “No. It gave the Templars too much power if there was something you couldn’t stand to lose.” She replied, quoting him.

She lifted her eyes from the table. “We should get on with it. It’s getting late.”

Solas stood up. “Actually, I believe I have my answers. We are most certainly connected through the anchor.”

“Answers? But nothing was done”

Solas stood up, she followed.

“ Shame. At being thought of as promiscuous. Rage. At your time locked away in the circle. Sadness, maybe remorse. At having your intentions misunderstood, then resignation. You accepted your role in the circle. Adoration for the male mage whose hair I’m assuming you used to tie back? Regret. Contempt. I felt it all, Lethalan.”

“May the Dread Wolf take me.”

Solas smiled. “Was that saying not considered a curse in your clan?”

“I was going to say _‘well, fuck me._ ’ But that felt very un-Herald like.”

He chuckled, a boisterous, jovial sound that seemed in such sharp contrast to his more serious nature. His bright cobalt eyes roamed her face, and she knew he meant it as intimately as it felt.

“You know you continuously surprise me, _Lethallan_. You have risen to every challenge. You have overcome every difficulty.” He shook his head in disbelief. “ You have embraced your new role.”

“Choices are easy to make when you have none.” 

He paused. Leaning beside her on the small table, their arms touching. She felt his fingers slide onto hers. “If only the bond worked both ways. Then you’d feel what I do everytime I look at you.” His face inched closer to hers, and she allowed it. Her heart racing at his nearness. He paused right before their lips met. “Your heart is speeding up, Lolani- Wolfe.” His voice a near whisper. Did she want this? Cullen’s face flashed before her eyes. 

“Solas, I -”

“We need to head back to Haven immediately.” Cassandra said, bursting through the tent flaps. She stopped. Her gaze bouncing between Lola and Solas, their hands, his proximity to her. 

Lola quickly stood up and away from Solas. “Is something the matter, Cassandra?” She asked a little too quickly. _Crap._ Will Cassandra be mentioning Solas in the next report she sends back to Haven? Nothing had happened between them. Nothing was going to happen between them, but Lola was sure it certainly hadn’t looked that way.

“Cullen has written.”

“Is he alright?” Lola asked, concern flooding her. Her heart continuing it’s race for different reasons.

“The Templars and Mages are quarreling. Chancellor Roderick is at The Chantry, his presence is causing an uproar, a rift in the camp. Apparently, he refuses to leave. Cullen asks that we return with haste.” Cassandra’s dark eyes shifted once more for Lola to Solas. “I will go gather the others.”

“Thank you, Cassandra.” Lola said. With that Cassandra left. Lola turned to Solas. He sat with his arms crossed, leaning against the table, his steady gaze on her.

“I see,” he said, standing up. And she knew. She knew without a doubt that Solas had felt, exactly what she had felt at the mere mention of Cullen’s name.

* * *

It took them three days to return to Haven. The weather gradually changing from the comfortable warmth of the Hinterlands to Haven’s bitter cold. Lola made sure to change back into her leather battle suit, and recast her warmth spell lest she froze her ass off.

When they finally reached Haven it was the middle of the day. The noise and chaos from the disputing crowd could be heard long before she reached The Chantry doors. Lola immediately hopped off Maximus and began pushing past the crowd. She could hear Cullen’s voice rising above the crowd. A deep rumble from the center of the ongoing commotion. “The mages and templars were already at war. Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death.” 

“Which is why we require a _proper_ authority to guide them back to order!” A whiney voice replied. Chancellor Roderick’s, Lola scowled. Oh how she despised that man.

“Who, _you_?” Cullen scoffed. “ Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

Lola reached where they stood face to face in the center of the crowd. Cullen’s top lip was curled as he spoke to Chancellor Roderick, a look of pure disgust on his face. He towered a whole head and a half over the Chancellor, looking every inch his namesake: The Lion Of Ferelden. But Roderick would not be intimidated. He stood his ground and in doing so was causing a rift in the once peaceful camp.

“What is going on?!” She asked, her voice being lost in the clamor, neither men noticing her presence.

“The rebel Inquisition and the so-called Herald of Andraste?” Roderick spat. His beady eyes settled on her, registering her presence. “And here she is.” He said, pointing at her. “Andraste’s _true_ Herald would at the very least have the decency to practice modesty, instead of this _vulgar_ display of the flesh!”

“Oh?” Lola retorted, before she could stop herself, her temper flaring. “Do my tits and ass offend you, Chancellor?” One thing she would not suffer is people telling her how to dress her own body. People blaming her for their inability to curb their own urges. “Is it all tits and asses that you have a problem with or it it just mine in particular?” She watched as the Chancellor blubbered for a retort, turning crimson from the effort. She took a spot up in front of Cullen, closing the gap between her and the Chancellor. “Because I’m fairly certain Andraste herself had both.”

* * *

In that moment Cullen truly wished that he had some way of capturing the image of the Chancellor’s face. He had never seen the miserable little man so flustered and enraged.

Chancellor Roderick had been in Haven for five days badgering Josephine, Leliana, and himself in turn. They had actually begun drawing straws to see whose turn it would be to deal with the Chancellor that day. What started out as a mere nuisance grew into something more insidious as their people began to turn an ear to Roderick’s rantings. Soon crowds were gathering outside of the Chantry, and the threat of dissension became real. It was no longer something they could handle on their own. They needed to regroup.

So, Cullen sent one of Leliana ravens, explaining the situation. He hadn’t expected them to return with such haste. He had received no alert of their arrival and hadn’t even noticed their presence until Roderick pointed Lola out. And to Cullen’s, and surely Roderick’s, surprise she hadn’t cowered or retreated when he attempted to shame her to the crowd. Instead she fought back. Her choice of words stunning the crowd and Roderick himself into a near silence.

 _Poke the lion…_ Cullen thought _._ Roderick attempted to prick her, and she had roared back. Cullen had to hold a gloved hand to the lower half of his face to hide the extremely inappropriate smirk that appeared there at the sight of Roderick’s embarrassment. The man was turning redder than any tomato that Cullen had ever seen.

“Why is this man still here?” Lola asked turning to face him when Roderick failed to respond to her inquiries.

“ _He’s toothless,_ ” Cullen responded loud enough for Roderick to hear. “No need to make him into a martyr by turning him away.”

“I will not leave! You will hear me until this farce of an Inquisition is put down!”

“Has he been throwing temper tantrums this whole time?” Lola asked Cullen, crossing her arms and cocking her hip in the exact manner Josephine had been trying to imitate. She looked like a firecracker standing there between Roderick and himself.

“Unfortunately,” Cullen grumbled, answering her question. “It’s been incessant. We’ve been completely unable to rid ourselves of him.”

“I bet if I flashed him he’d go running,” she said, a sly smile on her face.

Cullen nearly choked on an intake of breath, and began coughing uncontrollably into his hand.

“Careful there, Herald.” Leliana said, approaching them from the crowd. “You may just end up giving our poor Commander a heart attack.”

“Oh, Creators! Are you alright?” Lola laughed, looking at him. “It was only a joke. Believe me, I don’t make a habit of flashing men of the cloth. Though perhaps if he had seen more breasts throughout his life he wouldn’t be _so afraid of them!_ ” She practically yelled the last half.

“Oh my!” Josie said, appearing from the crowd. “Umm, Cullen perhaps you could escort Lola to the war room to discuss our next steps. Leliana and I will handle this.”

“Vulgar! Crass!” Roderick began blubbering. “Both in dress and voice!”

“Yea?” Lola asked. “Get used to seeing them Chancellor!” She said pointing to her cleavage. “Unfortunately for you, they aren’t going anywhere.” She slapped her own rear, punctuating her point, getting an explosion of claps and whistles from the crowd.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen mumbled to himself. He’d have problems ridding himself of that image. _Andraste,_ his men would never calm down now. He placed a hand at her back and began to lead her away and out of the crowd before she caused a different kind of uproar. Her warmth immediately enveloped him. _The spell._ He remembered. Spell or not, he had missed it. No. He had missed _her_.

“Damn it.” Lola said once they were in the quiet of the Chantry. “ I shouldn’t have said those things.” Her eyes were trained on the ground before her, bottom lip wedged between her teeth. Reminding him of the day they first met. They had come a long way since that day.

“He was out of line,” Cullen said. It was true. Lola was not a woman of the cloth. She was free to dress as she pleased.

She shook her head, her curls bouncing freely. “I should’ve held my tongue. I need to better fit the image of Andraste’s Herald.”

Cullen thought this over. “If you were chosen, Lola. Then Andraste chose you as you are, because who you are is exactly what is needed for the situation we are in.” He looked at the woman walking beside him. She was the very opposite of Andraste in nearly every way. He tried to picture her meek and completely covered, with her hair smoothed and controlled instead of wild and free, and he couldn’t. It would no longer be the Lola he was beginning to know. Beginning to care for. 

He opened the war room door, and held it open for her to enter. The heavy door closed silently behind them. She rounded the war table, her eyes scanning it’s map, her slender fingers trailing along its edges. They had known each other so briefly and she had been away for so long, he had almost began to wonder if he had made up how lovely she was.

He hadn’t.

“You don’t need to change a thing about yourself Lolani-Wolfe. Not a single thing.” She truly didn’t. The Maker had outdone himself with her. Her clear grey eyes raised to his, and he was reminded of the way she had looked at him the morning of her departure.

“If you approve, Commander. I certainly wouldn’t want to.”

“I do.” Cullen said, losing himself for a moment, his voice taking on a sensuous tone he wasn’t accustomed to. A small smile formed on her lips, which only worked to pull one from him.

What was it about her that made him feel bold and foolish all at once?

“Did you receive my letter?”

“I did,” he said, remembering her words. How they made him feel. He had kept the letter, re-reading it several times to ensure he wasn’t imagining a sentiment that wasn’t there. “I’m pleased that Maximus suited you. He’s a good steed. He’ll serve you well.”

Lola looked at him, her button nose wrinkling in confusion. “No, Cullen. As I told you in the letter, he is yours. I can’t take your steed from you.”

* * *

“You’re not taking him, Lola. I’m giving him. Maximus can protect you where I can’t.”

He looked incredibly handsome standing there across the room. The small smiles he would allow to cross his face, and the way his golden eyes would linger a moment too long were enough to make her swoon. And she didn’t swoon, she wasn’t the swooning type.

“You’re concerned about my protection?” Lola asked, despite herself, not quite sure if he meant it the way she hoped he did.

“Of course. I’m The Commander. You’re The Herald. Your protection is important.”

_Right._

“Right. I’m The Herald. You’re The Commander. Of course you’re concerned. It’s your job.” She could kick herself. He was only being kind. _Foolish girl, when will you learn? What could a man like Cullen do with someone as ‘crass and vulgar’ as you? Andraste, you slapped your own ass in front of crowd that considers you a religious figure._

“Andraste, save me,” she mumbled to herself, regretting her earlier actions.

“What was that?” Cullen asked.

“Nothing.” She said, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. “Let’s get to business, shall we?”


	10. Hot and Bothered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Lola talk.
> 
> Lola says goodbye to Cullen once more.

Perhaps Cullen preferred a shyer, more timid woman, Lola thought. She placed her full plate on an empty wooden table in the back of the tent.

A woman that with a mere glance or brush of the hand, would immediately fall into an uncontrollable blushing fit. A more naive, innocent type. Certainly not one that would stare luridly at him when she’s caught him without a shirt. Lola rested her head dejectedly in her hand. That armor he wore truly did him no justice. Underneath it all was a body sculpted to perfection by physical exertion.

Creators, she would’ve ran the tip of her tongue right along that scar on his upper lip... _Fenedhis_. What has come over her? Lola placed her forehead on the wooden table with a light thud. Her hair falling over her face. He definitely wouldn’t want a woman that fantasized about licking him.

She groaned loudly, eliciting looks from those directly around her, those trying to enjoy their meal. Soldiers and refugees alike, like her, were up early hoping to avoid the breakfast crowd. Thankfully, they let her suffer in peace, consumed with her thoughts of Cullen and all the reasons why she had failed to hold his interest.

Since her return to Haven, she had spent her nights twisting and turning, rather than sleeping. Their conversation played repeatedly in her head. Her actions. His. And for what? Had he not made it clear that his interest in her lay solely in the fact that he was her Commander? He was the Commander. She was the Herald. That’s their roles. He knew his. Why didn’t she know hers?

...Perhaps he simply just didn’t fancy mages.

She sighed. Why ponder these things?

She moved to rest her head on her arms, her fingers tracing the wood grain on the table. Her eyes heavy with fatigue.

There were more important matters at hand. Immediate problems that needed solving.

...Perhaps he preferred them fair skinned, tall, and blonde, with eyes as blue as the sky itself. A more slender physique...

“Difficult night, _Lethalan_?”

Lola popped her head up at the sound of Solas’s voice. Did he sense what she had just been thinking? Maybe, just the frustration...She straightened herself out, brushing her long hair back and out of her face.

Josephine had insisted they straighten it, positive that the Orlesians would find her more becoming this way. Lola had doubted it, sure they’d still turn their nose up at her: the Elven mage named Andraste’s Herald. For now, all it did was give Lola more hair to contend with. She had a headpiece she was to wear, and a new battlesuit she was to slip into before she left Haven. Which they were to do within the next few hours or so.

Solas took a spot beside her on the sturdy wooden bench. His plate ladened with fresh fruit. His eyes landed on her absurdly large stack of pancakes.

“Your idea of what constitutes breakfast is...interesting.” He said a slight frown on his face. He wore an especially fitted battlesuit with select pieces of gold plated armor. The hue of which perfectly matched the color of the vallaslin she had chosen for herself all those years ago. His armor contrasted nicely with his midnight colored locs, and with a black fur stole laid across one shoulder and a headpiece prominently featuring the jaw of an animal (a wolf?), his opulence had an air of danger.

His message was loud and clear: he had no interest in altering his existence to please Orlesians.

Lola tore her eyes from him, to the food before her.

They had hardly spoken since that night, and the journey back had been odd without their usual badinage. She had missed speaking with him. Solas, though, had seemed content to brood the entire way back. And though he was prone to bouts of melancholy, Lola gave him the space he so clearly desired, fearing that she may have been the reason for his sour mood. She looked up into his clear cobalt eyes, glad to finally be in his presence once more.

“There should be fruit on your plate,” he continued sounding oddly paternal.

“You disapprove?” Lola took the syrup and lathered her pancakes in it. His frown deepened.

“You are aware that that will not nourish you well enough for our journey to Orlais, correct?”

Lola cut into her golden pancakes. “I enjoy eating sweet things, Solas. Sometimes it isn’t about nourishment, but comfort and pleasure.” She dipped her fingertip into the syrup and brought it to her mouth. His eyes following her movements. The syrup and powdered sugar were the best part. “Do you truly seek to deny me one of my few pleasures?” She poked through the torn fluffy pieces with her fork preparing to bring them to her mouth.

“I’d never deny you pleasure.” Solas replied, moving toward her, his mouth slightly open. She allowed him to steal a bite from her fork. “I too enjoy feasting on things that are sweet.” He said, chewing, a wry expression on his face.

“You certainly don’t seem to be enjoying it.” She watched as he swallowed hard then frowned once more.

“There are things of this world far sweeter than any food one could consume, _Lethalan_.”

Lola narrowed her eyes at him, sure his words contained a double meaning. She took a bite of her pancakes, and turned his words over in her head. He took a strawberry from his plate and popped it into his mouth.

She gasped, her fork clattering down to her plate. “You made a _sex_ joke,” she said, unable to hide her shock. “An _oral_ sex joke.” Solas broke into a boisterous laugh. “You filthy elf,” she said laughing along with him. Relieved that nothing had changed between them after all.

Would the type of woman Cullen preferred be taken aback by such jokes? Would she feign offense and clasp at her buttoned up collared battlesuit? If so, Lola would never be that woman. She couldn’t imagine for one second that Solas was not a man who had had more than his fair share of lovers. Why should he act as though he hadn’t?

“Me? Were you not the one who sexually assaulted our dear chancellor?” He asked.

So, he had heard about that.

She tilted her head side to side neither confirming nor denying, taking another bite of her pancakes. “More like sexually harassed,” she mumbled. Proud of her actions, she was not.

He hummed. “Shame I missed such a spectacle.”

She poked at her pancakes. They had turned soggy. “Yes. My exact thought at the time was ‘why are there not _more_ people here to witness me embarrassing myself?’ ” She said pushing her plate away from her. She frowned. Good pancakes, gone to waste. “I adore your armor, by the way. It truly suits you better than the hobo elf look you had before,” she teased.

“Is that what you feel you did? Embarrass yourself?” His face had grown serious. He brought his cup to his lips, and took a sip of his drink. His long body arching back with the motion. He was a handsome elf. Being on the receiving end of his attentions was not something she would envision anyone complaining about. She thought of their near kiss. If her mind hadn’t been fully encompassed by thoughts of Cullen, she would’ve let him.

“Solas, I told a man of the cloth that he needed to see more breasts, and, basically, then offered to show him mine.”

Solas choked down his drink, “ _Lethalan!_ ”

“I know, _Hahren_.” She placed her head on his fur covered shoulder. Allowing a long sigh to escape, and child-like pout to take place on her face. “It can’t be undone. Not all of us have your wisdom.” She had begun to wonder if she had any wisdom at all. Shouldn’t any herald of Andraste be bursting with wisdom?

“You are aware that the others plan on exploiting that pout of yours.” He said giving her chin a light pinch. She gave her head a light shake. She detested when he did that.

“So, I’ve been told. Josephine has already begun grooming me.”

“That explains your hair.”

She nodded. “In no time I shall be the perfect pet of the Inquisition.” She joked. Half joked.

There was a long pause. “ _You trust these humans?_ ” He asked her in Elven. “Cassandra, Josephine, Leilana..” He paused. “The Commander.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder. Careful not to react to the mention of Cullen.

“ _You don’t?_ ” She responded in their shared tongue.

“ You fall into slumber as their enemy, you rise as their savior.” He looked around the tent that served as their mess hall. His eyes skipping from face to face. “They are fickle, _Lethalan_. Their sentiments change as swiftly and severely as the wind.” He shook his head. “Bend if you must, but do not allow them to define your place here. For whichever role they assign to you will always be in their best interest, with no thought of what is in yours.”

She had thought the same. Many times over. But as of yet, they had given her no reason to distrust them. They were to work together if they were to succeed, what point was there in her fighting them if in the end there would be no world for her to define herself within?

“I’ll keep that in mind, _Hahren_ .” A pause. “ Why did you come to the Inquisition, Solas?” He had kept to himself, rarely spoke to any but her. He had no strong trust for those in charge. She had no real choice but to be here, but being here was something Solas had decided on his own.

Solas rose from the bench, leaving his now empty plate on the table. “It wasn’t to befriend all, nor was it to bond with the _shems,_ ” he said simply, preparing to leave. She wondered if the latter was about her interest in Cullen.

“Have we not become friends?” Lola asked, choosing to focus on the former. She rose to meet him, tilting her neck back to peer into his face.

“Yes, well, you have been... surprising, as I have told you once before.”

He turned and headed out from beneath the tent. His long legs quickly covering ground, causing her to lose sight of him. She left the table and stepped out from under the tent only to pummeled by Haven’s relentless early morning winds. She needed to recast her warming spell. Squinting into the morning sun, she looked for Solas’s tall lithe figure. Turning the corner, she climbed the steps and only to find him in his usual spot. By the tavern, staring at the rift, seemingly deep in thought.

“Solas. If I’ve done something to offend you-”

“Do not act as though I hadn’t attempted to kiss you, given half the chance I’d attempt to again.” He said not averting his gaze from the rift.

“Alright.” Lola replied. He wanted transparency. Then she wanted the same. “Then why did you attempt to kiss me?” If he had truly been able to sense her emotions from the day they battled the demons in the village, then he knew of her burgeoning feelings for Cullen. Yet, he still attempted to steal a kiss.

He huffed at her question. “Your interests lie elsewhere, so be it. But my interests lie with you.” He looked at her than swiftly looked away, shaking his head.

Lola studied him. “You’re...you’re _frustrated_ by your attraction to me,” she said, rounding him. He looked down at her, jaw clenched, and paused.

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor.”

“Yes. I remember. Your presence had become a source of comfort for me. It still is.”

“NIght after night, I sat there. You were never going to wake up. How could you, a mortal sent physically through the fade? Cassandra accused me of duplicity, threatened to have me executed if I failed to produce results.”

“Yes, but she’s like that with everyone.” She said, pulling a laugh from Solas. “No, but I’m sorry. I hadn’t known about that. It explains the distrust.”

Solas nodded. His eyes turning once more toward the breach. “I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee. And then-” He took her hand in his own. His thumb tracing the mark “-with your marked hand in mine, we closed it.” He lifted his eyes to her. “... and right then, I felt the whole world change.” His gaze was intense, searching.

“You... felt the whole world change?”

“You change..everything.”

Change...not changed, she thought noticing the distinction. Unsure of what it meant.

“In a frustrating way?” She teased.

“You find my frustration amusing?”

“No, it’s just that you managed to explain something without actually telling me anything at all.”

“Perhaps, I was mistaken in joining the Inquisition,” he began, his voice low. She realized he was talking more to himself than her. “I have been wrong so often in the past…”

“You came here to do a job and leave. To aid in fixing the rifts, righting the world, and then move on. Right? But, what? The fact that you are starting to like some of us, perhaps even care for some of us.. is…” She narrowed her eyes at him, desiring to comprehend him, but for a man that desired transparency, he was withholding so much. “Is it that forming bonds here would make it that much harder for you to walk away when this is all done?” She searched his face, but it remained unchanged. She sighed. “ I care for you too, Solas. I enjoy your company. You remind me of home. My clan. The good parts. You’re the only one that knows what it is to be an Elven mage surrounded by _shems_ , but more importantly, you’re my friend, Solas. I respect your opinion and admire your deep reservoir of knowledge. Why does any of that have to be such a terrible thing?”

“ _Da’len_..” he began.

“No. Solas, I’m no child,” she said, holding up a hand to stop him. “I can’t possibly be that much younger than you.”

He chuckled softly at that. “If you insist, _Lethalan_.”

“I do,” she replied stubbornly. “I also insist you stop doubting your place here. Stay. Please. If not for yourself than me. Yes, it’s a selfish thing to ask, but I don’t care. I need you here.”

“I will remain. For now.” He looked at her so intensely, she had to look away.

“Good.” 

“Does my gaze make you uncomfortable, Lolani- Wolfe?”

She leveled her gaze at Solas, prepared to respond with a smart-ass remark when Varric’s voice called out. “Don’t you two know how uncomfortable two apostate elves whispering conspiratorially in a corner makes everyone?”

“Sounds like an issue for everyone but the two elves whispering in the corner, dwarf, ” Solas replied.

“Good morning to you too, Chuckles. Hey Minx, grab Mister Happy, Seeker is ready to roll.”

Lola turned to Solas. “Ready, Mister Happy? I’ll meet you by the stables in a few, I have to change.” She turned to leave only to feel his hand on her elbow. “Lola. If he prefers another of any type. He is a fool.”

Lola felt her jaw tighten, she blinked averting her gaze. “I’ll see you at the stables,” she repeated, before gently removing her arm from his grasp and walking away to where Varric stood waiting a few feet away.

“Secret Elven plans?” Varric asked once she was beside him.

Lola snorted. “Hardly.” She turned to head down the steps toward Haven’s stables, tossing the idea of changing. Different clothes wouldn’t help her win over rich, prejudiced _shems_.

“Where are you going?” Varric called stopping in his tracks.

She looked at him confused. “To the stables. You said Cassandra was ready.”

Varric shook his head, a look of disappointment on his face. He walked up to her. She stood a few steps below him, leaving them at almost the same height.

“What?” She asked.

“Minx…” Varric began in a knowing tone.

“ _What??_ ” Lola repeated.

“Curly.”

“The Commander? What about him?”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

She mimicked his facial expression, waiting for him to elaborate. He sighed dramatically.

“I don’t mean to meddle…”

“Yes, you do. Say what you want to say.”

“You know I’ve seen this before. Beautiful woman off to save the world, two men pining after her…”

She paused. “You’re talking about Hawke.” She said unable to keep the interest from her voice.

He nodded sagely and tugged on his gold chains.

“Wait, Cullen-“ She stopped, realizing how many people were around them. “-The Commander.” She continued her voice lower. “Is most definitely not _pining_ after me.”

“Hey. I write this stuff for a living. I know a love triangle when I see one, Minx.”

She shook her head. This was not a conversation she wanted to be having.

“Those dopey grins he wears when he sees you,” he continued.

“Dopey grins? I’ve never seen a _dopey grin_.”

“Yea, well, he usually has one when you’re not looking. Look,” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Just go say bye to him or something. And _pay attention_ . _Really_ pay attention.” She looked at Varric incredulously. “Trust me. Watching him walk around all day distracted by you has become painful, believe me. In fact, just ask him out or something, will you? Put him out of his misery.”

“I’m not doing that, because you’re wrong,” she said. “But I've no problem telling him goodbye,” she relented. “I’ll lay it on real thick, if not for any other reason to prove how wrong you are.”

“Yea, well, not too thick. Don’t kill the poor guy.”

Lola began walking up the steps. “Wait. So, Hawke was in a love triangle?” She asked, turning back to him.

“Oh yea. Anders. Fenris. This whole thing.” Varric replied, half rolling his eyes.

“Anders?” Lola asked, taking a step back down to Varric. She was aware that Varric knew him. Traveled with him. When she had spoken about the mage whose hair she used to tie back to Solas that night, she knew she’d be here eventually, asking Varric about him.

He eyed her. “Yea, Blondie. Why..” He cocked his head to the side.

“You say he was in love with Hawke?”

“Yea, I mean, maybe. Love may be too strong a word. I say love triangle, but who says _lust triangle_? Just doesn’t have the same ring, you know? Once Fenris appeared there was pretty much no competition.”

Lola nodded, only half listening. “Is he ...I mean, did he…” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Anders, is he ok? Alive?” She was practically wringing her hands.

“Yea.” Varric’s eyebrows knitted together as he answered. “I mean, last I saw him he was. Though many had wished otherwise.” He paused. Lola exhaled, relief washing through her. That’s all she wanted to know.

“Minx. Did you-“ He paused. Narrowing his eyes at her in suspicion. “Did you _know_ Blondie?”

“Blondie?” She asked, walking away, ready to prove Varric wrong about Cullin’s interests. “Not one bit.” 

Anders. Yes.

* * *

Orlais then The Hinterlands...He stared at the map pinned to the immense wooden table. Lola and the others would be gone for awhile. Far longer than they had been for their previous trip. Which would put Cullen right back to guiltily reading those reports.

They had unanimously decided that this would be the last expedition that Cassandra would spy and report on Lola. Lola had done well on her first expedition, exceptionally so. She and the others had cleared out violent Apostates and Templars, rid the area of corrupted wolves, provided food, clothing and blankets to the refugees. She had marked where watch towers needed to be built, and provided safe transport for Mother Gisele who should be arriving any day now. She had accomplished a lot and proved herself a competent leader. So much so that his men posted in The Hinterlands respected her. He felt an odd bloom of pride at that. Those men weren’t easy to win over, but she had done it. She had listened to what they needed, respected their opinions, and had delivered. 

She had been back for only a moment and already she was departing again. He had had no time to train her on the field and that concerned him. With all the Templars she’d be encountering on her journey, understanding their weaknesses would have benefited her greatly. He exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his curls.

He felt a mess. Something had happened between them. He had said or done something wrong and she had withdrawn from him. He had replayed his words and actions over in his head continually these last few days, but he just could not pinpoint the issue. There was something he wasn’t seeing. He had lost sleep over this and even though he was often up at night, he was usually productive. Lately, all he had done was fret. This infatuation would be his undoing. Perhaps it was best that she had placed some distance between them. His shoulders slumped at the thought.

“Cullen?” A breathy voiced called into the room.

“Lola?” He asked, his pulse jumping at the sound of her voice. She entered, the heavy door closing silently behind her as she stepped in. Her hair was different, straight. It was nice, he absolutely adored her curls, but with it straight she looked like a completely different yet equally attractive woman. She ran her hands through it, only for it spill back into her face like a curtain of black water. Not for the first time, Cullen felt the desperate need to wrap his hands up in hair.

And pull.

 _Andraste_ , was that the type of man he was?

“I thought you had already left,” he said, forcing his eyes back to the map.

“We’re preparing to leave now.”

There was a pause. A hesitation?

“I hope you don’t mind me dropping in on you,” She said, rounding the war table to stand near him. She ran a delicate hand through her hair once more, shifting it to one side.

This battlesuit left her neck open. She had markings, similar to the vallaslin on her face there. Delicately laid threads of gold in intricate patterns flowed down the front of her neck, her chest bone, and as far down as his eye could see.

She tilted her head and looked down at the map. She stood close enough for the feathers of his robe to ruffle her hair. For that warmth of hers to engulf him.

“Cullen?”

“Hmm- yes?” He asked drawing his eyes from her neck. The markings were beautiful.

“I was asking if you could show me where we were on the map.”

“You were?” How far down did the markings lead?

How many men had been lucky enough to find out?

“Um, yes, of course.” His eyes moved from her to the map and back again. She smelled of apricots and amber, of summer. 

“Cullen?”

He cleared his throat. “Right. Where are we? Let’s see.” He stared at the map, unable to make heads or tails of it for some reason. Thankfully, they had a map marker on Haven’s location.

“Here.” He said tapping his finger on the map.

She hummed, and bent forward, assuredly for a better look.

Her battlesuit was different. Still all black, but instead of leather, there seemed to be a velvety texture to it, one that was just calling out to be stroked. And instead of one piece it was broken up into three. The revealing top piece stopped right below her navel, revealing a delicate slither of coffee colored skin before the snug bottom began. She wore the same heeled boots that lace up past her knees, but she had a new overcoat. It was so thin it seemed to serve no purpose other than being fashionable. It was held in place by an ornate belt at her hips which also held her daggers. The overcoat kept sliding down her shoulder, only to reveal more skin, it would seem her top was being held up by nothing than her breasts..Cullen looked away. It was more lavish than the suits he was used to seeing her in. In fact, it had Josephine’s touch written all over it. Josephine had obviously spoken to her, and Lola must’ve agreed to go along with their plan to exploit her. He was unsure of how he felt about it all. His eyes slid back to her. How was she to battle without it all coming undone?

“She is desperately working on getting me to wear color.”

“Hmm? What was that?”

“Josephine. The battlesuit.” Her grey eyes peered back at him, a knowing look on her face.

He groaned inwardly. He had been caught.

“At first glance it appears that I wouldn’t be able to participate in combat,” she said turning back to the map. “Leilana’s idea. It immediately makes the enemy underestimate me. Women are used to moving gracefully in uncomfortable clothing, Josephine’s words. She isn’t wrong, and it isn’t terribly uncomfortable. I can fight, everything stays in place, the fabric is surprisingly pliable. And. I have headpiece designed to keep my hair from my face.”

Cullen stood silent, sure that anything he would say in that moment would come out with salacious undertones.

“Josephine had taught me about this the first day we were here,” she continued. “But I was so nervous and overwhelmed. None of it stuck.” She straightened herself back up and turned to face him. She stood directly in front of him now. Half perched onto the war table. “Don’t tell Josephine that though,” she said bringing a single finger to her lips, a sly smile on her beautiful face.

“You’ve my word,” he mumbled. A crooked grin pulled on his lips. Her smile widened slightly, before she looked away.

“So,” she began turning back to the map. “This is us,” She reached over before him once more to point at the map tokens that represented her and her party.

“Correct.” He said clearing his throat and averting his gaze.

In all fairness, that war table was exceptionally wide, and although she was nowhere near the shortest around, she certainly wasn’t the tallest, some pieces would be just impossible for her to reach without completely bending over the table. She was on the tips of her toes now, one leg kicked adorable out behind her. Didn’t they have a stick for that? To move the pieces around? He was sure they did but for the life of him, in this moment, he couldn’t remember where it was, or what in void it was called. He personally never needed to use it.

“And we are about to travel.. this way?” She asked, moving the piece to the left toward Val Royeaux.

“Well,” He reached around her to place his hand on hers, both hands were gloved and he was sorry for it. “It would be more…” He corrected the trajectory guiding her hand along the actual route. His body bending over hers.

“Ah, I see,” She replied, her voice low.

He could feel her every inhale. The small rise and decline of her body with every breath.

“Then you’ll double back.” He moved the piece back toward them, toward Haven. “But you’ll continue pass us, to The Hinterlands. Then the Storm Coast. To investigate the Grey Warden sighting, and The Chargers as possible allies before,” he moved the piece once more over to Haven, “- finally returning back to us.”

“ _Fenedhis_.” She said under her breath.

He chuckled, he didn’t know Elven but it was clear enough that she was swearing.

“Indeed,” he agreed, releasing her hand and straightening himself. “It’ll be some time before we see one another again,” remorse slipped into his voice. “Well, that is, before you see Haven again.” He corrected, the previous sounding a little too intimate.

“Right.” She said, turning toward him, leaning once again on the war table, her small hands gripping its edge. They fell into an awkward silence. Now was his time to say something, if he didn’t, he’d spend the entirety of her departure regretting it.

“-Cullen, do you think perhaps we ...“

“-Lola, I was hoping we….

They spoke simultaneously, the both of them breaking out into awkward chuckles.

“I apologize,” Cullen said after a moment. “After you.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Cullen, you wouldn’t be interested in getting to know me, would you? As more than just The Herald?”

“I - ... _What?_ ” He looked at her, sure he had heard her wrong.

She laughed, “Ummm..” He watched as she crossed her arms and shifted her weight. She tilted her head, once more revealing her neck, and scrunched her face up . “I- this... this is weird. I made this weird.”

“ _No_.” He said, practically speaking over her. 

This was unwise. Unprofessional. Possibly blasphemous, and most certainly trouble, but ... “I would very much like that.”

She straightened herself. “You would?” Her eyes widened.

“This surprises you?” he asked in disbelief. Surely, all the times he had been caught gawking like a fool had made his interest obvious.

“As much as I would love to believe I’m everyone’s type. I’m not,” she gave him a weak smile, and looked to the ground.

“I assure you, you’re mine.”

Her eyes flitted to his.

“I’m sorry, that was aggressive, wasn’t it? I’m not usually…” he trailed off, rubbing his neck, and searching for the correct words.

“Well, that’s a shame.” She said pushing herself off the table. She moved toward him. She stopped before extending her hands toward him. She plucked a stray leaf from his robe. 

“Why is that?” He asked, transfixed, his voice barely audible.

“Because I like it,” she responded looking up at him. He could’ve sworn his heart stopped. She gave him one last smile, her full lips curving up. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, Commander.”

“There you are!” Varric called to Lola, opening the war room door.

Cullen opened his mouth to respond, to wish her safe travels, but found his voice lost to him.

Varric looked at him than back to her.

“So, I was right, wasn’t I?” Varric said to Lola as she exited the room.

“Oh, _hush up_.”

“You should listen to me more often,” Varric continued, following her out, “I’m much wiser than my chest hair would lead you to believe.” His laughter filled the hall.

The door closed behind them, leaving Cullen alone in the room wondering if this what it felt like to be left ‘hot and bothered.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once a month seems to be the quickest I can get new chapters out. Which blows, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.
> 
> So, let’s talk about my girl Lola.  
> Many works (in my reading exploits anyway) feature women who are shy, timid, docile, inexperienced, and that’s fine. Many women can be described in a such a way and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, but I wanted to do something a little different, which I am sure is obvious by now. I wanted my woman to exude sexual energy. She still has her insecurities, and she has her own set of problems that come with not being a woman that fits neatly into society’s idea of what a woman should be or how one should behave, but she just isn’t at that point in her life where she is inexperienced and frightened by her attraction to a man. And yea, she’s a tad bit naughty, which, in my opinion, makes her more fun, if not a little unpredictable.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy reading about her as much as I enjoy writing about her. Because, darlings, there is power in the curve of a woman’s hip and well placed touch, and there is nothing wrong with a woman that harnesses it. 
> 
> Plus, I think it sets up an interesting dynamic between her and our ex-chantry boy. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!! xxxxxooo
> 
> If you enjoy this, maybe check out my Mass Effect fanfic of Shrine Of Lies. Also updated monthly because I suck right now.


	11. Insidious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola makes her way to Val Royeaux and the Storm Coast where rising tensions places her in danger.
> 
> Cullen reveals how he truly feels about Solas.

_ Cullen, _

_ Orlais is beautiful. More beautiful than I could have ever imagined. It is ornate and ostentatious, gilded and polished. It was just like the masks the Orlesians wore, a lovely distraction for the insidiousness that lies underneath.  _

_ I now see why so many detest the Orlesians. Too many of them behave as though they are above everything. As though they are too refined for the troubles of the world. Being here, one would not know that the world was falling apart at the seams.  _

_ I am glad Josephine prepared me. Their insincerity is palpable, their walls are high, and I am not sure I could’ve climbed them without Josephine’s guidance. They speak in riddles in an effort to learn as much about you as they can without revealing an ounce of insight into themselves.  _

_ The way they look at me… I don’t belong here. Their ridiculous masks don’t hide the fact that they know that as well as I do.  _

_ Thankfully, Varric is a professional at knowing when to step in with a joke to break rising tensions, and Solas’s presence means that their disdain for Elven Apostates isn’t aimed at just myself.  _

_ And Cassandra, Cassandra is intimidating enough to frighten the lesser Orlesians away. All she does is scowl and grunt and they flee. It’s a gift I am beginning to wish I possessed. Perhaps she would teach me? I jest. I admire her strength. I will need more of that of my own for the coming days.  _

__ _ We are staying at an Inn right outside Orlais for the night, in the morning we will approach the Templars as agreed upon.  _

__ _ Wish me luck, _

__ __ _ Lola _ .

  
  


Needless to say, it did not go well.

“You wonder what will become of her murderer?” A Mother asked from upon a stage in the middle of Val Royeaux. A crowd had gathered to hear the mother speak, and Lola had arrived just in time.

“Wonder no more,” The Mother continued, her eyes landing on Lola. “Behold! The so called Herald of Andraste claiming to rise where the Divine fell.” The Mother pointed her out to the crowd. “The Herald is a false prophet! The maker would send no mage in our time of need!”

Oh fuck. 

The crowd turned to her awaiting her reply as whispers of agreement growing amongst them. 

She had to say something.

“I make no such claim,” she said wondering if that would make matters better or worse. “I am here to close the breach, nothing else. It threatens us all!”

“It’s true.” Cassandra spoke out beside her. “The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it’s too late!”

The Mother smirked. The smile of someone who knew more than they were revealing. 

“It is already too late.” She pointed off stage to where a group of Templars approached. Their heavy armor clanking loudly with every step they took forward. 

To think, these people found the Templars to be more of a comfort than Lola, than the Inquisition. 

The Mother smiled unto the crowd. “The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face the Inquisition and we will all be safe once more!”

The Templars stepped onto the stage to applause from the crowd below, only to silence the crowd with fear and panic when one brought his fist directly across the Mother’s smiling face, knocking her unconscious, and sending her body tumbling to the ground. 

Lola’s hand flew to her mouth. She gasped along with the crowd at the horrendous and unexpected act of violence against the Mother. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” Lola asked the man who could only be Lord Seeker Lucius.

“She is beneath us,” the Lord Seeker responded with a scowl, maring his already unpleasant face. “The Mother’s claim to power is an insult! Much like your own.” 

The Templars then left the stage as quickly as they had boarded it. 

Josephine had not prepared her for this outcome. Lola was truly unsure what to do. 

“Lord Seeker Lucius,” Cassandra began, trailing after the Templar. “It is imperative that we speak with-”

“You will  _ not _ address me!” He bellowed, continuing to walk away.

Cassandra stopped. Stunned. Apparently, she had not been mentally prepared for such an outcome either. “Lord seeker?” Cassandra asked. Her voice and face full of confusion.

“Creating a heretical movement,” he said, turning to Cassandra. “Raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed!” He looked from Cassandra to Lola with a look of pure disgust. “The Templars failed no one when we left The Chantry to purge the mages.”

Lola winced.  _ Purge _ . He wanted them all dead. Though Lola long suspected it so, it was still shocking to hear declared in a such a way. No shame. No remorse. As though mages were just nuisances, rodents the world needed to be rid of.

“If you came to appeal The Chantry, you are too late,” The Lord Seeker continued. “The only title here that demands respect,” he said, pausing, moving closer to them, staring them down. “ _ Is mine. _ ”

Her party looked on stunned. His audacity. The undeserved authority. It was up to her now. 

“What we truly need is an alliance to seal the breach,” Lola said. “That’s the threat. That’s the priority. Hate us if you must, it matters not. What matters is the giant whole in the sky.” She sounded desperate, she felt desperate. 

“Oh, the breach is indeed a threat,” Lord Seeker, began. Lola breathed out, comforted that at least that much could be agreed upon. “But you certainly have no power to do anything about it.”

She felt her mouth hang open. Was he serious? She was literally the only person capable of closing rifts. Surely, the Seeker understood that that meant she could most likely do something about the breach as well. 

There was crying and fretting happening behind her. Back on the stage the other Mothers had gathered around the Mother that had been assaulted. 

Lola looked back to the Lord Seeker. Did the Inquisition truly want the aid of an order so corrupt?

“I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void-”

“You can’t be serious,” Lola breathed. 

“We deserve recognition-“

“ _ Recognition _ ?? You want recognition?”

“We want independence!” He practically shouted. 

Lola turned to her party. “This is pure insanity. His priorities are -“ she shook her head, overwhelmed. “He’s insane. This is mad.”

“You have shown me nothing,” the Lord Seeker continued. “The Inquisition, less than nothing.” He turned to his men. “Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection. We march!” With that he turned to leave. Taking his men with him.

“Charming fellow, isn’t he?” Varric said.

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?” Cassandra asked, her face aghast.

“Do you know him very well?” Lola asked, turning to Cassandra.

“He was always a decent man. Never given to ambition or grandstanding.” Cassandra shook her head, looking after The Templars’ exit. “This is all very bizarre”

Lola had to do something. The others were sure that the Templars were their best option, she could not return to Have having not given this her best shot.

“I’m going to attempt to talk to them once more. I’ll be right back.” She said, walking off toward them. Every fiber of her being telling her this was a horrible idea.

It didn’t take her long to catch up. 

“Lord Seeker Lucius,” Lola called out, trailing behind him. “I implore you to truly think deeply about-”

A Templar moved out of formation, stepping between her and the Lord Seeker, stopping her in her tracks. His dark eyes bore holes into her. 

“Lord Seeker Lucius has no desire to speak with the likes of you. He has been clear. Be gone. Lest you force my hand,  _ mage _ .” The Templar spat the last word.

Lola narrowed her eyes at him. She wanted to deal with him, truly she did but she had other matters to handle. People were relying on her. 

Lola attempted to step around him, only for him to block her. She tried once more, but he only blocked her once more. She looked ahead. The rest of the Templars were getting further and further away.

She balled her hands into fists. Attempting to calm the storm she felt brewing within her. 

“Step aside now, Templar or-”

“Or what?” He asked, staring her down. He took several steps toward her. He towered over her and with his heavy armor shining brightly in the Orlesian sun, he cut an intimidating figure. 

Despite herself, she backed up. She knew this look. He had the need to dominate written all over his face. 

He followed her. Each single step back she took, he took two forward, toward her. She was making it easy for him. Showing her fear. It’s what he wanted, but she was, she was scared. Her heart began beating a little harder, a little quicker. Her eyes darted to where she had left her friends but they were no longer there. By the time her eyes returned to the Templar it was too late. 

His hand shot out catching her face, his broad fingers pinching her cheeks. With her face in his hand he began to push her back, she stumbled into a wall. 

“I know you’re type,” he sneered, his eyes roaming her face, her mouth puckering under his tight grip. “Women like you are used to getting what they want.”

“I assure you,” Lola said, her eyes trained on his as she struggled to speak within his grip. “I rarely get what I want.”

If she did, she wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t be The Herald. She wouldn’t be a mage, and her mother would’ve accepted the fact that she came out more like her shemlin father than Elven. But, clearly, she rarely got what she wanted.

He chuckled. “The Circle was full of women like you. Women that enchanted men without the use of magic, that preyed upon their vulnerabilities. The weakness of man.”

Lola laughed then, a laughter that boderlined hysterics.

She knew it. How many times? How many times did she need to be on the receiving end of men looking to use her to make their point? Weak men that hid behind their armor and undeserved titles? That abused their power?

Her response must have taken him by surprise because his grip on her loosened. She wrenched her face away from his hand, bringing her face closer to his. 

“And I know men like you,” she said. “Oh yes, my Circle was full of Templars like you.” She shook her head at him, moving her eyes slowly over him, making sure her face displayed her disgust. “Men that insist we  _ ‘smile’ _ , because we are  _ ‘prettier that way’ _ , and then turn around and blame us when that smile you insisted upon gives you hard on. The type that insists we give you a little peek of what’s under our robes, because you want to know exactly what it is you're protecting. How could you help yourself? We just look so damn sexy in robes hat fall to our  _ ankles _ .”

She felt her lip curling, her anger rising. “The type that watches a little  _ too _ intently, walks a little  _ too _ closely, talks a little  _ too _ sweetly, because after all, what is more tempting than one thing you’re forbidden to ever have.”

He was scowling at her now, his face screwed up in mixture of disdain and self hate. She should’ve stopped there. She had made her point, broken free of his hold. She should’ve left it there and walked away, searched for her party. But she couldn’t.

“So tell me, do you regret becoming a Templar? Do you regret being unable to fuck the women under your charge?” She cocked her head, making a show of studying him. “Or did you fuck them anyway? Even when she explicitly told you that that smile you insisted she give you, meant  _ nothing _ ?”

“You little bitch,” he growled, bringing his hands to her throat. He slammed her against the wall behind them. 

“They liked it,” he growled. “They wanted it. You all say no, until you say yes.” 

Lola grabbed at his hands around her throat, clawed at them as she struggled to breathe. He was squeezing her throat, lifting her off the ground. She attempted to shock him, burn him, freeze him,  _ anything _ but she found herself depleted of manna, nothing would come. He had nullified her magic without her even knowing. 

Her breathing was growing shallow, his reach was too long for her to kick him. Her vision swam before her eyes, and it was becoming more difficult to think. He was saying something to her, cursing her, swearing at her, threatening her? If she could just reach her dagger…

He suddenly fell to the ground. Being released from his grip Lola fell to her knees, her breathing ragged. She clutched at her throat and looked up to see Cassandra, sword in hand. She had knocked Lucius out.

“We must leave.  _ Now _ .” She reached down and pulled Lola up to her feet. 

“Are we to just leave him there?” Lola asked, her voice hoarse. She followed Cassandra away from the scene.

“Yes, he will live,”’Cassandra said looking back at the armored body slumped on the ground. “However, if the other Templars see us, we will not.” 

* * *

Lola frowned at her reflection. She stood in the bathing room, looking at herself in the mirror. He had left marks around her neck. No surprise, he was squeezing the hell out of it. 

Would he had killed her if Cassandra hadn’t stopped him? Will he be going out to take his aggression and anger out on a whore, or perhaps even another mage?

She sighed, more frustrated than ever, and turned away from her frowning reflection.

She went to sit on her bed. This was to be their last night at the Inn, tomorrow they’d make their way back to The Hinterlands to check on the only Grey Warden they have heard from in some time, Blackwall, after which they go to The Storm Coast to meet The Chargers. With any luck, she will be returning to Haven with new allies, and renewed hope. She brought her hand to her neck. And the bruising should be gone. 

She debated joining the others downstairs for dinner, uncertain if she desired to explain the bruising on her neck to those that weren’t there. 

She could see it now: _ “Why yes, my mouth did get me in trouble once more.” _ She leaned against the pillows thinking up different ways to explain the bruising when there was a light knock on her door. 

“Solas,” she called as the door swung open, quickly reaching for a scarf and throwing it around her neck.

“Lolani-Wolfe,” he replied, from the doorway. “May I enter?”

“Of course.” She replied, not moving from her spot.

Solas entered, closing the door softly behind him. 

“You didn’t wish to join the others for dinner?” She asked, watching him as he moved toward her. He had changed out of his armor, as had she. 

“I wasn’t hungry,” he said his eyes on her. He paused. “Our departure from Val Royeaux was quite expedient.” He said sitting down beside her on the bed, it dipped under the extra weight. 

“ Yes, well. No point in wasting time. The Templars clearly weren’t-”

He brought his hands to her scarf, his long fingers untying it until he was able to completely remove it.

“-interested.” She finished. His eyes were on the bruises. She took the scarf from his hands.

“What gave me away?” She asked, fiddling with scarf.

He looked at her pointedly.

“ _ Lethalan _ , this weather hardly calls for a scarf, while Haven is frigid, and I’ve yet to ever see you don one.”

She nodded to herself. That was true. 

“In addition, Cassandra spoke of the matter to me.”

Lola looked at him. “Cassandra? Why would she?” 

The two hardly spoke, she couldn’t imagine Cassandra seeking Solas out to relay a situation to him.

“She was concerned, and requested that I check on you.” 

“Ah, I see,” She replied, bringing her legs to her chest. She hugged them, resting her head on her knees. “I’m fine. Bruised, but fine.”

He nodded looking away from her to the door, he pushed a stray loc from his face. His locs were free and she was momentarily tempted to tie them back for him once more. 

“I take it you do not wish to discuss it.”

“I do not,” she replied. What was there to discuss? Her incessant need to run her own mouth? Or perhaps her uncanny ability to piss people off?

“Alright,” he said looking back at her, his clear cerulean eyes soft. “Would it be alright if I stood awhile? I desire the company. Silent company, even more so.”

Lola looked at him. His face held a neutral expression but she could tell, he was lying. He was attempting to spare her, helping her save face. If he offered to stay, she wouldn’t have to ask. She wouldn’t have to admit to the nightmares. The nightmares he knew about from watching her those first few nights in Haven, but was kind enough to never bring up. The nightmares an experience like this was likely to trigger. When first brought to Haven she would wake up, screaming, thrashing, only to find Solas there, by her side, calm and steady. Much like he was now.

“Alright,” she said, lowering her legs. “I guess that would be fine.” 

He looked down at her, a small pleased smirk on his face. He kicked off his shoes and placed his feet on the bed. Their legs touching. The sun was just beginning to set and although it was early for her, she felt the lull of sleep calling her home.

Perhaps, Solas sensed that as well, because he reached over. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he brought them down on the bed, so that they were laying. He was on his back, his free hand behind his head, her on her side angled toward him. 

She let out a loud yawn, then asked, “Would you tell me of your journies through the fade? Perhaps an especially salacious story where you caught a queen cheating on her husband with the help?”

He looked at her curiously. “That’s oddly specific,” he replied, but he was chuckling. “Alright, I believe I have one that might interest you.”

* * *

  
  


Cullen rolled up Lola’s letter to him, placing it in the desk in his room along with the first letter he had ever received from her.

Her letter to him had arrived late, a storm between Orlais and Haven had kept the crow from reaching him sooner. Lola and the others were well on their way to The Storm Coast now.

He pulled out the report he had brought back to his room. Josephine had found him reading the reports in her office again, before handing them to him and leading him out. “Cullen, you are more than welcome to take the reports. You are our Commander. Go, read them. Pass them to Leliana once you’re finished.”

He picked up Cassandra’s notes on Lola, only wanting to scan them. It still didn’t sit right with him that they were spying, even if Lola was aware of it. 

_ ….The Herald continues to do an admirable job under the circumstances…. more hand to hand combat training is needed… Orlesians reacting to her presence as one would expect…. as though they were watching some exotic animal walk around out in the open. It is disgusting… Solas is receiving the brunt of the rude stares. His attire, his head piece, and his locs seem to catch their attention more than Lola, and perhaps that was always his intention….He continues to keep close to her. _

Cullen frowned at this. There wasn’t much he could do to aid Lola from Haven. The extent of his reach was in providing her safe passage and ensuring her a safe base camp to return to at the end of the day. It was good that Solas was looking out for her, but why then did just the thought of Solas leave Cullen feeling so...tense?

He rolled his neck and looked back to the dossier.

…. _ However, there was an incident…. _

Cullen eyes ran over the words.

_ ….A Templar….assualt... _

He sprang to his feet, leaving his room, report in hand, he went straight to Josephine. Immediately locating her and Leliana in the War Room.

“Have you read this?” He asked the women, looking from Josephine to Leliana. 

Josephine averted her gaze, fiddling with her quill. She had read it.

“I have not,” Leliana responded.

“You should,” Cullen said, holding it out to her, only to find it crumpled by his fist.

Leliana took the report, smoothing it out as best as possible, her eyes scanning the page. Cullen waited as she spoke the words out lowly until she suddenly stopped. Her eyes going to his. 

“Oh my, she was…”

“She was assaulted. By a Templar,” Cullen said finishing Leliana’s sentence. He was unable to keep the anger from his voice. 

“This is horrendous, yes, but we could hardly be surprised she will be and has been battling many Templars -“

“ _ This  _ was not a battle out in the middle of nowhere with a random rogue Templar! This was her being attacked in a city by a Templar still a part of the order. This was her being unable to defend herself because at the end of the day she is  _ not  _ a trained fighter! This is something that could have been prevented if I had been given the proper time to train her….” He trailed off, too enraged to continue. He wanted to blame the lack of clothing, he wanted to blame the exploitation, or the fact that she had been left alone. There were a million things he wanted to blame, but he couldn’t. He knew better. He knew that would be shifting the blame from where it should be, on the Templar. What happened, happened because of who that Templar was. Who that man was: abject, deplorable...If not Lola it would’ve been another. 

His jaw tensed, his hands clenched. He exhaled loudly. 

“We send a crow. She is to return  _ immediately _ for proper training,” he said, his voice calm. “We will not risk losing the only we hope we have, because we failed to properly prepare her.”

Josephine and Leliana exchanged a glance before looking back at him. 

“Ok,” Josephine said. “Ok, we’ll send right away.”

“Good,” Cullen responded. Half surprised that they agreed so quickly.

“It will take some time for my crow to reach her,” Leliana responded. “With the Storm Coast being...stormy.”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. 

“Fine,” he barked. With that he left to go take his frustration out on his soldiers.

They were not kidding when they named the Storm Coast, the Storm Coast. It had yet to cease raining since she arrived. Their base camp was up a mountain about a mile away from the shore where she had found and enlisted The Chargers.

“Are you sure this is wise?” Cassandra asked her as they returned to camp for the night. “This Iron Bull readily admitted that he will be sending information about us back to the Qun.”

“Which is why I trust him,” Lola responded. “Well, not trust. Trust is too strong of a word, more like…” She trailed off, unable to think of a more accurate word. “We need the help, The Chargers seem more than capable to do that, and his honesty was refreshing. Especially, after the Orlesians.”

Cassandra only grunted in response, signaling the end of their conversation.

They climbed the last of the steep hill, successfully making it to camp. She was soaked to the bone. The leathers she wore did a better job of keeping out the rain than the velvet but it did a shit job of keeping out the cold. Every muscle ached, and her head felt ready to implode upon itself. She was more than ready to return to her tent and call it a day when an Inquisition came up to her. 

“Herald, a letter from Haven,” the soldier said handing her the parchment. 

“Thank you.” She took the letter. Perhaps Cullen had finally decided to write back. She took the letter and sat on a log by the fire, only kept burning because magic. 

_ Herald, _

__ _ You will no longer be needed on the Storm Coast. _

__ _ Return to Haven at once to begin combat training. _

__ __ __ _ Leilana  _

* * *

  
  


They arrived back at Haven late at night. The frigid air bit into her skin and the lack of sun did her no favors. Her symptoms had only worsen since their departure from the Storm Coast. Every step forward Maximus took sent pain radiating through her body, every inhale felt strained, and the temptation to chop her own head off in order to rid herself of the intense pressure she felt there grew more urgent. 

She should’ve said something, she should’ve told someone something but she was The Herald, she had no time to fall ill. She couldn’t be ill. She refused to be ill. She refused to be……

.

.

.

.

“Lola?” 

Someone was calling her name

“Lola, can you hear me?”

She could but they sounded so far away. 

“She’s not responding we’re going to have to fetch a healer. She’s ill-“

“We don’t know what’s wrong with her! It could be the mark-“ A second voice interjected.

“-I assure you, it is not the mark. She is indeed ill, and has been for some time.” Solas. That voice belonged to Solas.

“And you did not think to alert anyone?” The first voice growled. Cullen’s. She opened her eyes to see the two men standing toe to toe. But the candles themselves seemed to be burning too brightly, She shut her eyes once more. 

“I don’t believe that what I learn through our shared bond is for me to disclose.” Solas spoke back, an edge to his tone.

“There are some things too important to ignore, her being ill is one of them! Perhaps her fainting could’ve been avoided if you had just alerted -“

“I refuse to divulge information that is not mine to divulge!” Solas’s voice was now raising. 

If she could just speak, say something, she could stop them from arguing. But every word just came out as a pained groan. Her throat felt on fire. 

“She’s trying to speak!” Cassandra said. 

“If I believed her to be in serious danger, I assure you, Commander, I would have taken steps to care for her,” Solas continued, seemingly ignoring Cassandra. “Without having to reveal any information she hadn’t chosen to disclose herself.”

Lola opened her eyes, the room spinning round. She struggled to sit up, she felt Cassandra’s hands on her aiding her. Her head felt heavy, too heavy for her neck to support. 

“ _ You  _ would’ve taken steps to care for her?” Cullen scoffed. “Yes, you would’ve enjoyed that wouldn’t you?”

“What is that supposed to be mean, Commander?”

“Just that I don’t trust you, Solas. Your motivations for being here are murky at best-

“ _ Murky? _ I-“

“Will you two shut it!” Cassandra barked, getting their attention. With one arm wrapped around Cassandra’s neck, she had helped Lola to her feet. Both men looked at Lola, surprise and concern coloring their faces. 

“I’m - I’m fine,” Lola said. Her voice was barely above a whisper. It was clear she was not fine. She slowly removed herself from Cassandra and attempted to walk. The ground felt uneven and it took all her concentration to not stumble as she walked.

“Fetch a healer,” Cullen began, talking to no one in particular.

“No, truly I’m-” She threw up. 

“Maker!” Cassandra gasped. 

There wasn’t much. She hadn’t eaten much that day, but whatever she had eaten was now on the room’s wooden floor. Luckily, she hadn’t gotten it on anyone or herself. She groaned, clutching her stomach and swayed in place. Cullen steadied her by grabbing one arm, Solas the other.

“Oh for Andraste’s sake! Both of you,” Cassandra said shoving the men aside and taking Lola herself, “both of you man babies go fetch a healer. I have her. She only needs one of us to remain.” She carried Lola to the bed, where she laid back down.

“Now!” Cassandra commanded.

The men left without another word. 

Lola felt herself about to be ill once more.

“Hey Seeker, what’s going on -“ 

Varric walked in just in time to see Lola roll to the side of the bed and throw up once more on the floor. 

“Shit!” She heard him say.

“Dwarf, get a bucket, now! And someone to clean up this mess.”

“On it!” He left, closing the door behind him.

Lola rolled back onto her back, she felt hot and cold all at once.

“I don’t feel well, Cassandra.”

“Yes,” Cassandra responded. “That much is obvious. Don’t fret, I have seen this before. You are ill, but with the proper aid you will be fine.”

“I can’t be ill. I am needed. So much is needed to be done.”

“And yet you are ill. You have accomplished much, Herald. You will accomplish that much more once you are well again. I assure our problems are not going anywhere. But now, you rest.”

“I have the bucket!” Varric called, re-entering the room. He handed an empty bucket to Cassandra.

“Thank you,” Cassandra said, taking it placing it beside the bed should it be needed again.

“Wow, Minx, you are not looking well.”

Lola narrowed her eyes at Varric wishing she could think of something wise to say in return.

“Be gone, Varric. If you are not of use, you are in the way,” Cassandra spoke up.

“Alright, alright,” he said backing out of the room.

“Alert Leliana and Josephine that the Herald is ill, and no one else!”

Varric nodded and left the room. 

“You rest now,” Cassandra said, sounding almost maternal. “We have worked you too hard for too long, and for that I am sorry. Rest.”

Lola eyes fluttered closed, she wanted to protest, to tell Cassandra that they hadn’t worked her too hard, that she was happy to be of use, wanted to be of use, but she felt weak, and the words wouldn’t form and before she knew it, she had fallen into a deep sleep


	12. Prayers and Cold Showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen pays Lola a late night visit....this set up could only end one way.
> 
> Enjoy!!! <3

She had been in that room for eight days. 

For eight days he had watched healers of both the arcane and natural variety parade in and out of her room in succession.

_It’s nothing to be too concerned about, she needs rest, she’s over exhausted, a touch of hypothermia._

Hypothermia. The stubborn woman had refused to recast her warmth spell, insisting that she needed to feel the cold as the others did. It was the only way she could accurately judge when it was time to retreat, she said. 

_It's just a small cold,_ the healers said. _She just needs rest._

So, rest she did. 

Rest they allowed her. 

Insisted upon for her.

During those eight days Cassandra refused him access to her, citing that he and Solas would only act as unnecessary distractions. He huffed. Solas scowled. But they respected it, and kept their distance, not just from Lola, but from each other. Neither desiring to see the other’s face.

With two new recruits the camp was a flutter with activity. The attention shifted from the Herald’s missing presence to the fresh presence of a Grey Warden, and a Qunari.

Blackwall and Iron Bull. 

Cullen had spoken to them only briefly. Welcomed them, introduced himself, then he left them in the capable hands of Josephine, and Leliana. His thoughts admittedly elsewhere. 

It was night, and as usual he was awake. The wind howled and shrieked outside his window, rattling the pane as it passed. Usually he’d find it comforting, tonight, it seemed to be taunting him. Calling to him.

He hadn’t slept, he rarely slept, he couldn’t remember a night he successfully rested deeply and long enough to wake up feeling refreshed and renewed…

He still took the lyrium. 

He was no longer a Templar, but, still, he took it. Still, he ingested the turquoise luminous substance. Still, he had stores of vials hidden about his room, lying in wait for him. Still, it flowed through his veins.

He had been attempting to stretch the time between each intake. Like a drug addict self weaning. A day extra in between the doses, two days extra, three, until eventually he’d take them a week late, two weeks late, a month late…. but it was.. challenging _._

The dreams, no. The nightmares grew with intensity every extra night he went without. The headaches, the body aches... _the voices._ He felt hot despite Haven’s wintry weather. His body suddenly heating up as though an inferno had been lit from within him, and then, just as suddenly, grow cold beyond anything he’s ever experienced before. 

He was irritable, and angry. Miserable.

He was miserable. 

Except for when he saw her. 

When he saw her the voices receded, his rage abated. When he saw her he felt perhaps there was hope for him. Yes, she represented hope to him just like she did countless others. But what they hoped for when they saw her (peace, unity, a healed sky…), and what he hoped for (to touch her, to feel her, to _please_ her) were entirely two different things. His heart came alive around her, it beat a little quicker or stopped altogether, his skin tingled, his mind raced, and he felt _alive_. 

He lay back on his narrow bed, a smile forming on his lips as he thought of her, her admitted desire to get to know him, perhaps as intensely as he wished to get to know her. How bold she made him feel, yet still incredibly bashful. He rested an arm behind his head, enjoying the peace and excitement he felt just from thinking of her, until his stomach let out an angry growl.

He hadn’t eaten. He had forgotten. Again.

He exhaled loudly, and stood up. Throwing on a shirt that was far too thin for such a wintry night, he exited his room and headed for the mess hall. The cold immediately engulfed him, but for once, it felt good. Crisp. Invigorating. The stars shone brightly in the moonless sky, and Cullen realized his sudden good mood was due to the fact that he’d be seeing her tomorrow. After eight days resting, she had been cleared to return to her duties. In just a few hours he could finally be in her presence once more. 

“‘Hello, Commander,” a voice called out to him upon entering the mess hall. “What brings you here so late?” 

“Hunger, Mrs. Clarice,” he smiled. The elderly woman smiled back at him. She was one of the refugees they had taken in. While fleeing an open rift, she had lost her husband to the demons that had spilled out. Her husband had been cut down, running only ten paces behind her. The time they took to devour him, saved her life. Her story served as just one of the many Cullen had heard over the past months, a reminder of why he was fighting. 

She tutted at him, wagging a wrinkled, chubby finger. 

“Growing men need sustenance,” she said, grabbing a plate and loading it with food. The excess from the dinner rush.

Cullen chuckled. “I am certain I am no longer growing, Mrs. Clarice.” He retrieved the plate from her small hands. 

“Shush now. Take it. Eat,” she huffed.

He studied the contents on his plate. It was piled high with food. Meats, potatoes, rice, gravy, vegetables.

“Mrs. Clarice, I’m afraid this is far too much food for me-” 

“Nonsense, you’re a growing man,” she repeated, turning away from him. “Though..perhaps you could share some with The Herald? She has not eaten today.”

“Well, she’s on bed rest,” he admitted, feeling no need to lie. Mrs. Clarice was no gossip, and chances were she already knew of the circumstances . She was in charge of the kitchen, and behaved as though it was her personal mission to make sure each and every one of them were fed and full. “Surely, one of the others brought her her meal. Josephine or Cassandra.”

“I’m aware of the bed rest,” she said in a knowing tone, wrapping up leftovers. Leftovers Cullen would later have his men deliver to the villagers of the nearby town. The one Lola and he had saved. 

“But,” she began, her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “She sneaks out of her room every night, after the dinner rush, after the stragglers, and visits me. We eat cake, sip tea...she’s lovely company.”

Cullen smiled internally at this. That rascal. 

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, meaning it. He’d been seeking Lola’s company since he had first admitted his attraction to her to himself.

“But she’s not stopped by tonight. Mayhaps, you share some of that food with her? Check on her for me. Give her this cupcake I saved for her?”

Mrs. Clarice looked up at him expectantly. Handing him a vanilla iced cupcake. 

“She doesn’t like chocolate?” He asked more to himself than her.

“She does not,” Mrs. Clarice smiled. “Off with you now,” she said, shooing him out of her kitchen, and into The Chantry hallway. He frowned at the oversized plate, and cupcake. If he stood around debating with himself on what to do, the food would only grow cold. 

And he did wish to see her, if only for a moment.

* * *

Lola was up. She couldn’t sleep. She had began feeling better two days ago, but had stood in bed the extra days on both Josephine’s and Cassandra’s insistence. 

_Just two more days_ , they said, promising her. Tomorrow she would be back to her duties. 

But right now she felt anxious and nervous, and riddled with invisible undulating energy that she just couldn’t disperse. She had attempted to leave her room to visit Mrs. Clarice, as she had done the last seven nights, but was greeted by a very stern, very serious looking Cassandra Pentaghast standing outside her door.

“No.” Cassandra had said simply, and Lola had immediately retreated back into the confines of her room, a pout on her face. 

She was too nervous to try again. 

So, what did she do? She read, naturally. Her room was full of books. Books on Templars, books on the history of the Circle and the Inquisition, books on the Fade, and magic...she read them all. She devoured them. She enjoyed knowledge, and was drawn to any source that provided it to her. Which had been one of the reasons she had been drawn to Solas.

_Solas_. 

He had been a constant source of comfort. Though perhaps it wasn’t fair that she continued to seek comfort with him, knowing that he sought more from her. She sighed, her thoughts straying to Cullen, when there was a light knock on her door. 

“Come in,” she said absently, fully expecting it to be Cassandra.

“Lola, I hope you don’t mind. I come bearing food, and a cupcake from Mrs. Clarice.” Cullen stood, by the now open door. He was void of any armor, and stood in the dark, cold night in a simple charcoal grey t-shirt and trousers. 

“Creators!” Lola exclaimed. It was freezing out there. She placed her book down. “Quick, come in!” She said, scurrying to the door and closing it behind him. 

He set the plate and sweet down on the small round wooden table beside her bed, just large enough to sit two. Lola stood with her back against the door, watching.

“Am I imposing?” He asked, his gold flecked eyes filling with uncertainty. 

She had been staring.

“Not at all,” she said, moving to stand before him. She couldn’t believe he was here, she felt as though she had summoned through her thoughts alone. “I’ve actually been rather lonely. Cassandra has been keeping watch outside my door. I wanted to leave, but she refused it, citing it against some rule. That woman is hell bent on making me wait until the very minute of our agreed upon time for my release.” Lola rubbed at her temples and shook her head, still unable to understand the lengths that woman would go to enforce the rules.

“Yes, Cassandra could be quite the tyrant,” he chuckled, a smooth rumble, a deep burbling spring. It made her smile. It made her bite her lip. “It’s her way of showing her concern.”

Lola hummed in response, willing herself to calm down. She figured as much, which is why she chose not to give Cassandra a difficult time. 

Cullen took a seat on the wooden stool behind him which brought his face down to Lola’s height. She no longer had to strain her neck to look at him. 

“In fact,” Lola began, teasingly, looking him dead in his honeyed eyes, “your presence is also against the rules.”

He smiled, something she truly didn’t see him do enough, then he leaned forward, toward her, his face drawing nearer to hers. 

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he began, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Something the other women already know but we don’t discuss out of my respect for them.”

“What’s that?” She asked, transfixed by his gaze, the fire behind her lighting his eyes up just right. They seemed to contain small personal infernos of their own.

“I outrank them,” he said, simply. A smug grin forming on his chiseled features. 

The word ‘handsome’ did him no justice. 

“Is that so, Commander?” Lola asked, smiling back.

He nodded. “It most certainly is. I can go wherever I want, with whomever I want-”

“ - doing whatever you want?”

He tilted his head from side to side. A stray curl falling onto his forehead. 

“Well..whatever both parties consent to.” 

Their eyes stood on each other’s, until Lola’s hands went to fiddle with a pendent she wore around her neck, his eyes following. Upon seeing what was there, his eyes darkened and his face lost its playful look. She knew what he was focusing on.

“It’s almost completely gone,” she said, bringing her hands to her neck, to the bruises. “It looks much worse than it is, I assure you.” She went to back away from him, to retreat into the darkness, when she felt his hand on hers. Stopping her. His grip firm, but gentle. 

“May I?” He asked, motioning to her neck.

She looked at him incredulously. There wasn’t much he could do.

“Alright,” she said, moving back to where he sat. His gaze shifted from her face to her neck. Hers, from his face to the floor. She felt his fingers brush her curls aside, sliding them off her shoulder, revealing more of her neck. She felt the scratch of his callouses against her skin, and realized that this was the first time he’d ever touched her without gloves. He grasped lightly at her chin, guiding her head back and to the side, her neck and bruise on full display for him. Her eyes slipped back to his. He was staring at her with an intensity she had only ever seen him give his recruits or War table. She had often wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of such unwavering concentration. It was enough to make her hold her breath. His hand slid from her chin, across her jaw, to her exposed neck, where he lightly caressed her bruise with the tips of his fingers.

“I detest that this happened to you,” he said, his words rough, angry. Their rawness turning her on. 

Did he know that all he simply needed to do was say the word and she’d be his?

“As do I,” she said, wishing it were his lips on her neck in place of his hands. She imagined the type of attentive lover someone with his level of concentration would be. “I was never one to heal well, or quickly.” She cleared her throat and removed herself from his grasp, leaving him staring after her. 

When they had agreed to get to know each other did that allow for it progressing to something more physical quickly? Would that be something he’d be ok with, because she already knew that she would be. 

“We should eat, before it gets cold.” She took a seat on the stool across from him.

“Right,” he said, removing his eyes from her onto the spread of food set between them. She took a pair of utensils, as did he. Her, sticking mainly to the rice and chicken, him, the beef and potatoes. Each seemingly preferring what the other naturally avoided, the food was gone in no time. 

“We’ll begin training tomorrow,” he spoke up, his voice all business. 

“Alright,” she said. 

His shirt was thin enough for her to see some of the toned muscle that laid underneath. 

She did her best not to stare. 

“You don’t use a staff,” he said. A statement more than a question.

“I don’t,” she agreed. “A staff is a great way to advertise I’m a mage, also a great way for me to be pigeonholed into _only_ using magic. I like the control my daggers afford me. Had I been able to reach them, this-” she motioned to her bruises, “-would not have occurred. They could nullify my magic, but if I’m skilled enough, if I’m quick enough, they can’t stop my blade.”

* * *

Cullen looked at her across the table from him. She sat with perfect posture, a look of complete indignation on her lovely face, her small chin angled up in defiance. 

He’d seen that look, hundreds of times on the faces of the mages in his charge as a Templar, than as a Knight- Captain. 

There were times he deserved it, times when he didn’t. 

She was angry, but not at him, at the system maybe, at the Templars in her past, at the one that left her bruised. And he realized with absolute certainty, that it wasn’t the first time a Templar had used his power to hurt her.

“Lola, come here,” he said, realizing that there was something he could teach her right then. 

She rose from her seat and approached him. 

“Where do you wear your blades?” He asked, surveying her body in a way he hoped wasn’t as sexual as it felt. She wore a night dress that made it clear she had not been expecting any visitors, but she seemed unbothered by her state of undress, so he remained unconcerned as well, distracted, but unconcerned. He refused to be that man that asks a woman to cover up simply because he found himself unprofessionally attracted to her. 

“Here,” she said, pointing to both thighs. He could see the outline of them clearly through her gown, the fire burning in its place behind her left little hidden. That intense need to draw near her, to draw her to him, surfacing. 

They had agreed to get to know each other. To learn who they both were beyond being just the Commander, and the Herald, but what he was feeling...what he found himself desiring. It skipped a few steps, and then some.

He averted his gaze.

She wore her blades on the lower half, far too near her knees. He thought he remembered as much.

“You should be wearing them-” He looked to her, asking permission with his eyes to once again touch her. She gave him a small nod. Her lids low on her grey eyes. He could proceed. 

“Here,” he said, touching her upper thighs. Her night dress was made of silk. It was thin, incredibly thin. He shouldn’t be here so late at night, in her room, out of uniform...

“Would that have really made a difference?”

He stood up, looking down at her. 

“Watch,” he said. “Back up.” He motioned with his chin to the wall behind her. She looked up at him. She trusted him. She backed up until her back was flat against the far wall of her room. 

“I’m assuming he held you against a wall,” Cullen said, approaching her. He imagined a Templar, possibly as large as himself, fully armored, and armed, aggressively advancing upon her. It enraged him, the abuse of power, the harbored hate it took to behave in such a way. That it was all aimed at her. That not one of them were present when she needed it. That he never will be present in a time like that, not when he was to remain here, in Haven.

But he could teach her. 

He could teach all he knew of Templars and their weaknesses, and they had plenty. He could show her all the things he was sworn by The Chantry never to reveal, because he was finding that she was quickly taking precedence over all else. And who better to teach her how to defend herself against Templars than a man that used to be one himself. 

At the least the lyrium that still ran through his veins could be put to good use one last time. 

She nodded. “He did.”

“How was he holding you?”

“Both hands. Around my neck. He held me at arms length. Go ahead,” she said, before he even asked. 

He placed his arms at her neck, softly, lightly. 

“And then you went to shock him?”

“But my magic had already been nullified. I hadn’t even felt it, the release of his power.” She shook her head within his loose grip, clearly frustrated with herself. “So, I went to reach for my blades, but-”

“Because you were unable to bend, they were out of your reach. Could your fingers reach the spot I showed you?”

Lola stretched her arms down being sure not to bend, sure enough they were able to graze her upper thighs just enough that she’d be able to grab the hilt of her blades.

“You should keep a blade or two on your back as well,” he said, releasing her. “They’d be even easier to reach. Now, close your eyes. Trust me.”

She closed her eyes. “What am I-“

He released the Power of Annulment causing Lola to immediately collapse. 

“Holy shit!” She cried out as he caught her by her waist before she hit the ground. 

She looked at him wide eyed, grasping at his shoulders, and breathing heavily as he steadied her.

“Cullen, what the _fuck_ was that?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at how surprised she was by it. “That was the Power of Annulment. I just depleted all your mana and nullified your magic.”

“It felt like I just fell off the side of a damn mountain,” she gasped, bringing her hand to her chest. “No. I’m not joking. Here.” She grabbed his hand and brought it to her chest. “Feel. That’s my heart, Cullen! Attempting to break out of my chest.”

He laughed. “Lola, it’s important that you felt that. If you could get used to the way it makes you feel, you’ll be better for it. You’ll be able to sense it even when it’s used on a smaller scale.” He paused. “Had you truly never felt that before?”

“Never!”

“Not even during your time in the Circle?”

“Cullen, I have never in my life felt the _Power_ _of Annulment_. I’d remember feeling so close to death. Stop laughing at me!” She said, though she was partly smiling now. “That was terrifying!”

“I’m sorry,” he said between chuckles. Was it ridiculous to say he was enjoying the way she was clutching him, like in some way she felt he could protect her. “You’re honestly just adorable.”

Her eyes grew glassy, and tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m glad I look adorable so near death,” she said, wiping the tears from her face with a weak laugh. “Creators, I’m actually crying!” She said, looking at the back of her hand. It was wet from her tears.

“You always look adorable,” he commented, the words leaving his lips before he had a chance to stop them. 

They were true though. 

Her face softened at that.

Tears continued to roll down her face, seemingly of their own volition. The sensation had truly frightened her. He felt bad, that wasn’t his intention. Still, it was incredibly important for her to have felt that, and her reaction told him everything he needed to know: that out there, if caught by surprise by a Templar, she’d stumble just long enough for them to be able to land a fatal blow.

His heart twisted. He reached up and touched her face, her skin soft and warm. He wiped the tears away, swiping at them gently with his thumbs. Her grey eyes on his.

“I hate that feeling,” she murmured, a small pout on her full lips. Whether she was aware of it or not, that pout would be the end of him. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, his voice tender.

“How many mages have you used that on?”

“Not many, it’s powerful. From what I understand, it is unpleasant for every mage.”

* * *

Lola nodded, as more tears spilled down her face. She didn’t know why she was crying so much. She was in no real danger, not with Cullen, and yet something about the power a Templar could wield...it felt so substantial, so absolute. It wasn’t fair. They didn’t stand a chance. Mages didn’t stand a chance. It was terrifying.

She felt his hands on her face wiping away the tears as they fell. His gaze set steadily on her. 

“Lola?” He asked, his voice soft, eyes searching, “what happened to you?” And she knew, she knew he meant in The Circle, but she wasn’t ready to discuss that. Not yet. She shook her head, and gave him a weak smile. 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she said, her words ringing false even to her own ears.

Cullen nodded slowly, as though he understood. He drew her nearer to him, retaking his seat. Holding her hands in his own. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For whatever it was that you endured, I’m sorry.”

She perched on his knees, and felt him stiffen up under her. He was uncomfortable, she went to move when she felt his arm settle around her waist. Strong and firm.

“How was your Circle?” She asked, sniffling lightly. She saw the cupcake sitting on the table behind him and reached for it, his arm preventing her from falling.

He grunted, an adorable sound. “I wouldn’t call either of The Circles I was stationed in ideal. In truth, I’d rather not discuss it.”

“Fair enough,” she said, taking a bite of her cupcake. The sugary sweetness of it comforting her, along with Cullen’s nearness. “But I’m sure it was better for having you. You seem incredibly fair and just. I’m sure you were an exemplary Templar.”

She offered him a bite of her cupcake. He raised his eyebrows in question. She brought it closer to his mouth, insisting. He took a bite, and hummed.

“It’s good,” he said, sounding surprised. “I don’t know about exemplary. I tried my best to do what was right in every situation. Sometimes I was able to, sometimes...things were beyond my control. ”

“That’s all one could do, I suppose. That’s more than most I knew did.” She offered him another bite, the cupcake nearly gone. He took it, his lips grazing grazing her fingers. That scar above his top lip calling out her name. Had he received that during a time when things were beyond his control? His tongue shot out to lap up icing left on his lips. Lola forced herself to remain still.

“Imagine if I’d been in your circle,” she mused absently.

He snorted. “That would’ve been a disaster,” he said, his tone indicating that it’d be disastrous for more than one reason.

“Why’s that?” She asked, slightly offended. Popping the last piece of the cupcake into her mouth. She wasn’t that bad.

“I’d have broken so many rules for you,” he said. His face showing no signs of amusement, or playfulness.

He was being serious.

He reached out, his thumb running lightly over her lips, the calluses rubbing against her smoothness. He pulled away revealing tiny bit of icing he had swiped off, and without thinking, Lola brought her mouth to his thumb, sucking off the icing he held there. She gasped, realizing what she had done. Afraid that this time she had been too aggressive, gone too far, but before she had a chance to apologize or excuse herself, his lips were upon hers. 

Lola immediately melted into him, into his warmth, his firmness. His kiss was soft, tender, his lips moved slowly but confidently upon hers. She felt his hands upon the base of her neck, pulling her gently nearer to him, deepening their kiss as her mouth opened to allow his tongue entry. 

He pulled away.

“Is this- is this alright?” He asked. Lola’s eyes followed the trail of his tongue across his own bottom lip. She returned her mouth to his, her answer. Her hands gripped at the collar of his shirt, bringing him, and then holding him near. A low groan left his mouth, and Lola swallowed it. Hungry for more of him. All of him. If he was willing to give it.

* * *

He didn’t go to her room that night expecting anything, desiring anything other than just being near her. But once he did get near her…

Her lips were soft against his, he relished their fullness and shape. She parted her lips once more allowing his tongue entry to feel hers. To glide along and tangle with hers in a sensation he had long forgotten, couldn’t believe he had forgotten, but was so glad he had found once again with her. 

When was the last time he had kissed a woman like this? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. He wanted this. He wanted her, if she’d have him.

Knowing already that he’d only go as far as she wanted. He just wanted to give what she wanted. He’d give her whatever it was she wanted. And as if on queue, he felt her shift in his lap. Her thighs moving to straddle his, but they were on stool that was barely large enough to fit one, let alone two. They wobbled nearly losing their balance, Cullen steadying them with one hand on the table, one arm around her.

She laughed, then he did as well. 

“This may not be the ideal spot for this,” he said, holding firmly to her waist.

“There’s a bed, right over there,” she said, her voice small, hopeful. She had no idea how much he truly wanted this as well.

He stood up swiftly, bringing her with him. Her legs wrapping around him like they belonged there. His hands slid from her waist to her rear for a better grip, only to come into direct contact with skin. He sucked breath in through his teeth, a hissing sound leaving his mouth. She had on small clothes, and they were indeed extremely small. 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” she said by way of explanation. 

“I should hope not,’ he murmured, unable to think past the feeling of his hands on her exposed skin. He bent his neck forward reuniting his lips with hers as he laid her onto the bed. The mattress sunk into itself from their combined weight, giving a loud groan of protestation.

He wanted her. Maker, he wanted her. He was sure she could feel by now just how much he wanted her, but.

“Are you sure, Lola?” He asked, pulling away far enough to see her face. “We could stop now and I’d still return to my room an insanely happy man.”

* * *

He brought his hand to her cheek, caressing her face, and she knew, he was being sincere. But his leaving wasn’t what she wanted. And she could very clearly feel, it wasn’t what he wanted either. 

“And leave you all hot and bothered,” she said, her thigh rubbing against his erection, his eyes immediately closed, and a deep hum, that sounded like a repressed moan, left him.

“Nothing a few prayers, and a cold shower couldn’t fix,” he said with a crooked grin that was sexy enough to have changed her mind if she had indeed wanted to stop. “The Chant of Light, for instance. Perfect for these scenarios. Long, boring…”

She knew he was joking, she knew The Chant of Light meant more to him than that. 

“You’re telling me, The Chant of Light was invented for horny Chantry boys hoping to assuage their carnal desires.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, that crooked grin causing her heart to somersault. “I’m telling you, The Chant of Light is _successful_ at aiding horny Chantry boys desiring to assuage their carnal desires.”

She hummed in response. “Good thing you are no longer a Chantry boy, _Commander_.”

And she could tell, she could see what the word _Commander_ did to him in that very moment. His lips parted and there was a slight intake of breath, his eyes sliding back down to her lips. She moved up, removing herself partially from underneath him, as his golden eyes watched, unwavering. 

Once she was out enough from beneath him to sit up, she reached down, crossing her arms in front of her, and gripped the hem of her nightgown. Enjoying having his complete attention on her, the way he seemed to be holding his breath, Lola carefully, slowly, pulled her gown up and over her head.

“Maker’s breath,” he sighed, once she was exposed to him.

With her eyes on his, she tossed her gown to the side where it fluttered soundlessly to the floor. 

“I’m yours, Commander.”

She giggled as he nearly pounced upon her. His lips on her neck, his hands on her body. 

“That move of yours should be made illegal,” he murmured into her skin between kisses both sweet and hungry.

“How’s that,” she moaned, the feeling of his hand making its way up her stomach to her breasts sending electricity rolling through her.

“It’s torture,” he said, giving her neck a nip that made her gasp. “The worst kind of torture.”

“Perhaps that’s my true calling then? And I should be sent out to capture and torture our enemies. Who knows what information they’d be willing to part with.”

She heard him growl in response. “That will _never_ happen.” His lips moved down, made their way across her collar bone to her breast bone. Planting kisses that left her skin tingling.

“Feeling possessive already, Commander?” She teased, arching up into him, as his hand found their way to one breast and his mouth the other. 

“Over you?” He sucked lightly at her nipple, pulling a moan from her. “Most certainly.”

He slipped an arm underneath her, wrapping it around her waist, arching her further into him as he worked his way down. She closed her eyes enjoying the feeling of his lips and tongue against her skin, her breasts, her stomach. The graze of his teeth on her inner thighs igniting an ache between her legs only he could satisfy.

“Your shirt,” she breathed.

“What about it?” He asked, his fingers slipping under the band of her small clothes. 

“It should be off.” 

He looked up from between her thighs, a roguish grin on his face. A sight she’d never forget.

“You’re absolutely right,” he crooned. 

He removed his fingers from her and sat back onto his legs, she sat up as well, reaching for his shirt, more than happy to be the woman to remove it from him. She tossed it aside where it landed by her gown. She was greeted by what seemed like miles of rolling, toned muscles. All sculpted and hardened by his shield and sword. She was nearly salivating. 

“Better?” He asked, grasping her chin with his thumb and bringing her mouth to his.

“Much,” she replied, her hands roaming over his abs, his pecs. He moved to lower her back onto the bed once more but she resisted. Not until he was as nude as her.

“Trousers,” she said, pulling at his waist band. 

He chuckled, that deep sensuous sound.

“As you wish,’ he replied, unbuttoning them.

* * *

Cullen stood up and slid them down. She stood kneeling on the bed, watching, her lower lip between her teeth, one hand on her neck, the other grasping her own breast, and Cullen swore he had never seen a more erotic sight. 

Bold was not a word most would use to describe him, but she made him feel bold. Most often, he never knew where he stood, with people, in society, and that feeling of uncertainty often left him feeling anything but confident. But he knew where he stood with her, right here, right now, he knew her interest in him laid just as intensely as his interest in her, and that certainty left him feeling bold, confident, just as he did in battle, as he did on the field, as he felt leading his recruits. He knew where he stood among them, what he was to them, and that left room for boldness.

He approached her, wanting to feel her skin upon his, that seemingly mile after mile of deep honeyed skin exposed just for him. The skin he knew would feel like summer, just as much as it looked like it, and he had been right.

His hands tangled in her soft curls, as his mouth laid upon hers in desperate kisses and she allowed him to lower her down once more. She pulled down his boxers and he removed her small clothes, and once more he asked her if she was sure, and she responded with a look that ignited his core and a slight shift of her body that placed her heat directly on the tip of his. He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the way it made her body arch, and her breasts come to greet him. He kissed his way down the golden vallaslin, that did indeed stray far below. ..Down her neck, between her breasts, past her navel finally ending directly above her mound. A road map, for the only journey he ever wished to take again. 

With one shift of his hips he was entered her. He groaned as she enveloped him, as her insides possessively wrapped around him, and watched her face as pleasure bloomed onto it, her back arching and his name being moaned in a sound sweeter than any he’s ever heard. 

He waited for her eyes to reopen to him before moving once more. Wanting to see her. She was wet, _Maker_ , she was wet, and warm and tight, and he couldn’t help but let out a growl of pleasure as she began to rock her hips in time with his movements, pushing, grinding against him, urging him deeper, wanting it rougher. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, and her curls spread about her like dark flames, the light from the fire behind them played up her shape, her every curve, and he knew he had never seen her look more beautiful. 

After a moment her breathing grew quicker, more shallow. With every thrust, her moans, louder. Pleasure radiated through him with every movement, the feeling of being between her thighs better than any he’s ever experienced.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice low and soft like a prayer. He moved a hand down between them, massaging her clit with every thrust and that was all it took. With a curse and a moan of his name, she came. He committed the sound to memory, and moved his mouth onto hers to drown out the remainder of her moans as her body writhed and trembled in pleasure beneath him. 

She tasted as sweet as she looked, like apples and strawberries. She released her mouth from his, and he felt her teeth graze his earlobe, sending pleasure shooting through him. “Cum, Cullen.”

And he did. One deep thrust and another with his hands on her full hips pushing her down onto him, he came. He released all he had to give in that moment within her, as she nipped and sucked at his neck in a way he was sure would leave a mark but to the Fade with it, he could care less. She kissed him, a deep sensual kiss of a lover deeply satisfied , and with one last bite onto her plump lower lip, which brought out a final moan from her, he removed himself from within her. Immediately missing her warmth and grip on him. He laid down beside her in the narrow bed, not in any rush to leave, he wrapped his arms around her body, lightly glazed with sweat, and brought her to him. 

“You are-” he began, wanting to compliment her, wanting to verbalize how incredibly sexy and exquisite she was, when the bed let out a loud creak beneath them before completely collapsing onto itself. Lola erupted into a fit of giggles, that left him laughing as well, and when she turned to him, her grey eyes locking onto his and asked “Want to go again?” Cullen knew he was to become completely and utterly ruined, and he welcomed it.


	13. Faded For Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lola awakes to find Cullen still in her room.
> 
> Solas attempts to turn Lola’s head.

Cullen had remained in her room long into the early morning. Long after the morning birds began singing their songs, and the sun began touching upon Haven’s morning frost. Their sleep had been short but deep, disturbed only by the clamoring of The Chantry bells.

“I should get going before the breakfast crowd rises,” he said, mumbling into her curls. 

Lola’s heart fell. “Alright,” Lola sighed, forlorned. She waited for him to part from her. For him to unfold her from his warm embrace, but he didn’t, instead she heard a light snore, and smiled to herself.

“Cullen-”

“Hmmm?” He sounded as though he was halfway asleep again. “I’m just gathering my energy to leave,” he responded groggily, his arms tightening around her.

“You don’t have to go.”

“Hmm, no. I do. I do. If I don’t go now, my being here will be the-,” he released an adorable yawn that sounded like a lion cub’s roar, “-my being here with you will be the talk of the camp.”

Lola wiggled her body, turning over in his arms to face him. His eyes were closed, and helooked angelic with his flaxen curls in adorable disarray. On his handsome face was a small content smile that grew as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You don’t have to go,” she repeated. She nuzzled her face into his neck, breathing in his fresh scent. Despite how hard and long he worked outdoors training his men, Cullen had a constant freshly bathed scent, and he tasted just as clean. 

“The gossip. It will be relentless, and I guarantee, astoundingly inaccurate,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

Lola ran a hand through his golden curls, soft and bright. She watched as they came undone and then bounced back into place. He hummed at her touch, his embrace tightening, pulling her even closer, skin on skin, each nude underneath the sheet, After the frame from the bed had broken, Cullen had simply piled the wood in a corner to be dealt with later (giving Lola an unforgettable view), and slipped the mattress onto the floor, where they now lay tangled together amongst plush blankets and pillows, in the soft glow of a gentle hearth fire. It was so nearly perfect, Lola almost wished this had been her first time. 

Keeping him, keeping him naked and entangled with her, that would make it perfect.

She ran a finger across the sharp line of his jaw, stopping to grasp his chin and coax his mouth to hers. Lola parted her lips, allowing his tongue to slip in and stroke hers, as he rolled them over placing his body on top of hers.

“Stay,” she murmured.

She felt him smile against her lips, before moving his mouth from her lips toward her neck where he began laying a soft trail of kisses. His breath was hot upon her skin as his mouth traveled from her earlobe to her shoulder. Each kiss he laid upon her was so light and tender it left her skin tingling, the sensation pulling a small moan from her. “Let them talk. Stay, and come back again, and again, and _again_.”

“What if...I came back, but without the talk?” He asked, removing himself, and his mouth, from her. She watched as he went to gather his clothing, and nearly groaned aloud from the loss of his touch and heat. Stretching out onto her back, she arched and curved her body in a way that accentuated her curves, hoping to tempt him into returning to her. 

“Where’s the fun in that, _Commander?_ ”

* * *

His gaze sliced to her.

The way she said Commander. Smooth as honey, melted butter. It rolled off her tongue like she invented the word just for him and its meaning was sex. _Never_ , had he been called Commander like that. 

Her lids were low on her grey cat eyes, and through the thin sheets he could very clearly see her form and it took all the self discipline he had built over the years to continue dressing himself and not rejoin her back on the floor.

“Oh, you’re practically too much fun for me to handle as it is, Lolani- Wolfe.”

She smiled slyly at him from the bed he had just bedded her in. Looking every inch the Minx Varric had nicknamed her. 

“I should go,” he said more confidently than he felt. 

She sighed dramatically. “If you really want to.”

Want to? No. 

“I need to.”

“Alright,” she rose off the bed, the sheet wrapped loosely around her. The puce colored bruises at her neck stood prominent against her caramel skin in the firelight. He took her hand in his and brought her to him. 

“Why not allow a healer to heal it?” He asked. He reached out, brushing his fingertips against the marks.

“A reminder. I need to learn to shut my mouth.” 

Cullen looked down at her. To him, those bruises were proof he couldn’t protect her. There he was a Commander of a powerful growing army, power at his fingertips, The Lion of Ferelden, and still he’d never be near enough to protect her from an incoming blow, or close enough to rescue her from an aggressive pursuer. He wouldn’t be there to lift her when she fell, or comfort in her tent. He‘ll never stand beside her in the midst of danger. As Commander, his post was here at Haven.

What he could do was plot the safest routes for her journeys, and send her his most competent men. And pray to the Maker that he’d keep his bride’s herald safe. 

He stroked her cheek. 

“Stay,” she whispered. 

“I can’t.” He couldn’t accurately glean how their sleeping together would be publicly received. . The Chantry as whole was already against her, having judged and found her wanting. Chancellor Roderick had been one step away from calling her whore simply because of her attire. If they were to learn that the woman deemed the Herald of the holy Andraste had slept with him, her Commander, _her superior_. It would not be received well.

No, there weren’t many things he could protect her against, but from this, from damning gossip, he most certainly could. 

“I’ll put in a requisition for a new bed frame for you,” he said, motioning to the wood piled in the corner. 

“Thank you,” she said looking up at him, her striking features played up by the hearth’s soft glow. 

“Of course. Can’t have The Herald sleeping on the floor.”

He cringed. _Herald_. 

Definitely shouldn’t be bedding any Heralds of Andraste’s to begin with.

_Andraste forgive him._

Yet another aspect of this he needed to work out.

“I’m not The Herald,” she said, softly, as though even saying such things out loud was blasphemous. It probably was. 

_Andraste forgive her._

“Maybe,” he replied, honestly, uncertain. She was something, but what exactly, remains to be seen. 

“I’ll see you on the training field then,” he said, stalling. 

“That you will, Commander.”

He opened the door, and Haven’s chill immediately forced its way in, penetrating the room’s warmth. Tightening the sheet around her, she took a step back from the intruding cold.

He wanted to kiss her. Draw her near one last time for one final kiss goodnight, or good morning, but...

“Alright,” he said, awkwardly, forcing himself out the door into the cold, his chance gone. He exhaled, his breath condensing in front of him.

“Wait, Cullen!” 

He turned, stepping back in through the still open door. “Yes?”

She seized him. Hands on his collar, she brought his head down toward her where she kissed him. A sweet, soft kiss, and even as their eyes opened, her lips lingered on his. He felt her smile before pulling away, he felt himself smile as well, his face heating up, before they shared a small laugh. 

“Ok, Commander, now you may go,” she said, closing the door gently behind him, her eyes on his until the door severed their locked gaze.

As he followed the rising sun back to his small, grey, cold room, he chastised himself for ever thinking leaving her warmth was a better idea than remaining. 

* * *

Unfortunately, her training had once again been postponed; Cullen had been called away. A pertinent matter had arisen. One that not only required his immediate attention, but also his presence. 

“He should be back by the end of the week,” Leliana explained to her in the War Room. “His skill set carry much more weight here at base than it does out on the field. He understands this, and will be returning as quickly as possible.”

“Oh,” Lola said, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. 

She felt Lelinana studying her. “No worries, you cannot leave until he returns, so you’ll be able to be with him once more before you depart.”

Lola’s eyes met Leliana’s. “Why would I need to _be with him_ before I depart?”

“Oh, you know, so you can get in training before you leave.”

“Right..” Lola said, narrowing her eyes at Leliana. That ever present, all- knowing smirk was plastered on the Spymaster’s face. She knew. Lola sighed, and lifted herself onto the War table to sit, her legs dangling over the edge. “What gave me away?”

Leliana’s smirk bloomed into a full blown smile. “What didn’t?” Leliana leaned beside her on the War table, her green eyes sparkling. “I will say, you were much better at hiding your interest than Cullen was,” she laughed. “But seeing him leaving your quarters in the early morning with a ridiculous smile on his face,” Leliana clicked her tongue. “That was a dead give away.”

“And he thought he was being so subtle.”

“He always does.” They sat together in a comfortable silence. Leiliana’s watchful eye was ever present, it wasn’t surprising that she had found out about Cullen’s late night visit almost as soon as it had occurred. She was excellent at her job. “You know what I can’t figure out, though?” Leliana asked, breaking the silence.

“What?” 

“Your past,” Leliana said, her face growing serious. Lola met her now steely gaze. Her emerald eyes now hard jades.

Lola sucked her teeth. “That is quite the quandary isn’t it.”

“I have the basics. Born in clan Lavellan, you spent the first fourteen years of your life with your clan and your mother here in Thedas, before running away. Very far away to Fereldan.”

“Clan life wasn’t for me,” Lola said, shrugging nonchalantly. 

“You then spent the next three years in the city, hiding your magic, learning how to use blades to defend yourself. Getting yourself in trouble for petty theft-“

“-A girl had to eat.”

“-Until one day, you screw up.”

“It wasn’t me that screwed up,” Lola responded, her jaw tensing.

“No, it was the man that confused you with a whore.”

“Just because a woman is in a whore house doesn’t automatically make her a whore. I was visiting a friend. He didn’t take no for an answer.”

“Too many rarely do,” Leliana agreed. “You weren’t quick enough that night with your blades. So you had to use your magic-“

“And it just so happened that the whore house was chock full of Templars looking to fulfill their fleshly desires.” Lola shook her head, remembering how quickly they had overtaken her. “Not my best day.”

“Your last day of freedom.”

“I was swiftly detained and transported to the Fereldan circle. Where I was held for five years. Good times,” Lola replied, bitterly. 

“Something happened to you in that Circle,” Leliana said, rising off the table. 

“Many things happened to me in that Circle. Many things happen to many mages within a circle.”

“Yes, but your something is tied to Anders.”

Lola twisted her mouth to the side in thought. “Anders? No. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“You weren’t there-“

“-When the Circle went to shit?” Lola asked. “No, I had been transferred by then.”

“You were the only mage that was granted a transfer from a Fereldan Circle to one in Thedas. None were transferred with you. That is a significant distance to send a single mage, or any mage for that matter. It is highly suspicious.”

Lola laughed. “You think I was _granted_ a transfer?” Lola looked at Leliana in disbelief. “You truly are in the dark, aren’t you?”

“This would be much easier if you just told me, Lola.”

“Now, why would I do your job for you, Leliana?” Lola asked lifting herself off the table.

“I will find out.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Lola said, heading for the doors. 

“Lola.”

“Yes?”

“Who is your father?”

Lola turned to Leliana. “Maybe you can find that one out for the both of us,” she said, leaving. Her hands went to the tips of her ears. Her footsteps echoing through the Chantry hall. The multiple earrings she had lining her ears wouldn’t hide her identity forever. 

She made sure to stop by her room before allowing a single tear to fall.

* * *

She spent the next four days training. Training with Bull and his chargers, training with Blackwall, training with Solas. Each had something unique to teach her, something she couldn’t learn from any of the others. The physical exertion served as a good release of her frustration, and distraction from her thoughts.

The countdown had finally begun, Leliana would be working overtime to unearth her past, and there was little she could do but wait. She had little idea of what Leilana would uncover. Lola’s own knowledge of her identity extended only to the information her mother had let accidentally slip.

“ _You love shemlins so much, I should’ve allowed your father have you,”_ her mother had snarled to her once. When Lola had pushed for more information, her mother shut her out. She knew her father was human, she also knew half-bloods weren’t supposed to look like her. She should look entirely human, instead she had large, bright eyes that were unmistakably Elven. She could activate Elven artifacts and see Elven runes. She lacked the pointy ears, but her mother had rectified that. Her clan had been none the wiser.

Her clan. 

Would they hear the news that one of their own had been declared the herald of a human god? Perhaps, they had already heard, and just didn’t care. Or, the more likely scenario, she had been long forgotten. Perhaps even her own mother had forgotten her.

“What are you thinking of?” Solas asked from beside her.

Lola looked at him, startled. Had he been beside her the whole time? 

Solas had promised her a visit to the Fade, but instead she had somehow found herself wandering the land where her clan had once camped. Had Solas traveled here with her? She strained to remember their journey here, but couldn’t.

“My clan. It’s been so long,” she replied, marveling at the beauty her clan had been surrounded by. Ashamed that she had only truly remembered all the hardships, and none of the charm.

“I thought you would appreciate a journey home.”

The bushes beside them bristled. Lola grabbed Solas’s hand, bringing her finger to her lips, signaling silence. She brought him around the wide green brush, treading lightly, carefully, over the fallen leaves and twigs. She smiled at Solas. 

Halla.

A mother and child. They lifted their heads, their graceful necks turning to take in the sight of two elves standing, watching them. 

“Odd,” Lola whispered. “They usually take off by now.” Instead, the doe and fawn simply resumed feeding, gingerly nipping plump berries off the brush as though she and Solas weren’t truly there at all. 

Solas took a step toward them, but Lola tightened her grip on his hand.

“No, Solas. They’ll only run.”

“Not these. These Halla are here specifically for you.” 

“What? How could they be-”

“Come.”

He pulled her along with him until they stood face to face with the Halla. 

Lola marveled as Solas extended his hand, petting the mother on her head. He took her Lola’s hand in his and placed it on the fawn. It’s fur brilliant and soft, reflecting the moonlight in a way that seemed to make it’s pale fur glow. “I don’t understand. Wild Halla always run. _Always_.”

She looked up at Solas, his hazel eyes focused on her, an amused glint in his eye. “I told you. These Halla are here specifically for you.”

Lola studied the Halla. “They do look like the Halla I was charged with as a small child,” she said, kneeling beside the fawn.

“Is that who these two are?” Solas asked, kneeling beside her. His hand full of berries. The fawn ate freely, greedily, from the center of his palm.

“Well, I doubt that they’re the exact same ones, but they certainly look it.” Lola ran her hand down the doe’s body. “See, the baby had a marking just like this one. So odd.”

“Halla are usually charged to the adults.” 

“Yes, but I was thought to be an especially irresponsible youngling to my clan. It was their way of teaching me that the safety of the many comes before the few. I was to place their safety before my own, to protect the two, above all else.” She grew sad thinking of their fate, and the sky suddenly grew darker, shifting dramatically from a blue black to a deep purple. She had lost the Halla she was charged with. She had always assumed they had ran away from her, but only the Halla themselves, and Creators knew their true fate. 

The doe and fawn before them pricked their ears up suddenly, looking off into the distance before rushing off and away. She and Solas rose to their feet, watching as the Halla dashed gracefully away.

“You believe they ran away,” Solas said.

“I do.”

“You said you were thought to be _especially irresponsible_?” Solas asked, clearly intrigued.

Lola smiled and walked away. There was a spot she recognized, a clearing up ahead. “I was caught with a human boy.”

“Were you now?”

She looked back at Solas, a small smirk on his face. “No. Not like that. I was a child. It was entirely innocent.”

“Why should that have been an issue? Is it not true that your clan habitually convened with humans?”

“It is. We openly traded with them. Respected them as friends. But that’s where the interest was supposed to end. I was caught giving one a kiss. My first.”

They stepped out into the clearing. It was just as she remembered it. Laid out before them was a carpet of soft grass, shaded a brilliant blue-green by the light of the full moon, surrounding the clearing was thick trunked trees that stretched so far into the deep night sky that they looked as though they were reaching out to touch the creators themselves. Her clan would camp here for weeks on end. 

Solas leaned upon a tree’s trunk, his face hidden and revealed in turn by hanging vines as they blew in the warm night breeze. “So, your interest in _Shemlins_ started long ago.”

“Are you insinuating something, _Hahren_?” She asked, turning to him.

“How have you been sleeping?”

“Not as great as I would like.” Lola shrugged. Her gaze following the trail of the fireflies. Had there always been so many? They were like blinking fairy lights gliding all about her.

“You slept exceptionally well your last night on bed rest.”

“Did I?”

“You did.” Pause. “You tend to sleep well when there is another beside you.”

She knew where he was going with his line of questioning. But she owed him no explanation.

Lola sat in the grass, it was thick, plush. Softer than any bed she had ever found herself in. She laid back and closed her eyes. Enjoying the warmth, and the nocturnal sounds of the forest. She had missed sleeping under the stars. 

“Your sleep was always deep when I was beside you.” His voice was husky, his statement full of insinuations.

She heard him approach her, felt him lower himself beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. 

“Was I as deep asleep my last night on bed rest as I normally am with you?” She asked, turning to him.

“Not even close,” he murmured, his face near hers.. 

“I don’t believe you.”

Solas smiled. “You believe I’d lie to make him appear bad?”

“I know you don’t approve. You don’t like him.”

Solas grunted, and rolled onto his back. “The feeling is beyond mutual.”

“What reason would he have to dislike you?”

“Other than for my interest in you. I’m an apostate.”

“As am I.”

“Yes, and I am certain that if I were also beautiful woman that was showing him interest, he and I would get along swimmingly.”

“You’re saying the only reason he doesn’t harbor negative feelings for me is because he is attracted to me?”

“I am saying, I suspect as much.”

“He doesn’t speak about you as much as you do him.”

“I’m sure he’s much too busy with other things when he is with you to waste breath on me.”

Lola studied his profile, he slipped his hands behind his head as he stared up at the stars. He still wore his head piece, and with his locs pulled out of his face, he reminded her of an old, majestic Elven god. 

“I never took you for the jealous type,” she said.

He chuckled. “I’m not half as bad as I was in my youth.”

“You’re hardly an old man, Solas.” Pause. “How bad were you in your youth?” She imagined him chasing down beautiful women everywhere he went, never quite satisfied. A wolf constantly on the hunt.

He turned his head to her. “ _Bad_. Young me would not allow this moment to pass.”

“Moment? This isn’t a moment.”

“It could be. If I just-” He raised his hand and twitched his fingers. A moment later all the fireflies seemed to converge. Hundreds. Thousands of them, all different colors, and hues. A stunning rainbow of glowing light floated right above them. 

“How-”

“Watch.” He began swinging his hand side to side, like a conductor of a silent chorus. The fireflies followed suite, swaying to the soundless rhythm, mimicking his every move, they swirled and danced in the night sky, performing just for them.

Suddenly, he lifted his hand and they ascended, straying so far up, they left her sight. Then he brought his hand down, and the fireflies came plummeting back toward them, like stars falling from the sky. Abruptly stopping just before colliding into the earth. They Floated at a complete standstill all around them. Solas was bathed in soft blues and greens, his eyes shining brighter than all the fireflies put together. She couldn’t look away.

“Then maybe he’d reach over,” Solas propped himself up on his elbow, “and brush some of the lights from your hair.” The top half of his body was now right above hers. She needed to tell him to stop. That it didn’t matter what trick he pulled from his sleeves, that nothing would occur.

She felt him run his hand over her curls, sending more fireflies circling around them. “His hand would linger a little longer than necessary. Because, after all, it would’ve only been an excuse to touch you. To feel you.” His nimble fingers travelled from her hair to her cheek, tracing her jaw, and even though she had only been with Cullen once, she already felt this touch to be different from his. Foreign. Solas ran his thumb over her lower lip, and her heart began hammering in her chest, caught between the desire to push him away and pull him in. “Then I’d say something like: I felt your heart race when he touched you. The night he visited your room. It woke me up. Visions of your back arching and voice moaning kept sleep from me. My own imagination betraying me.” His eyes locked on hers and Lola felt heat rise to her face. 

When he began speaking of her sleep, she knew Solas had felt something from that night, but she wasn’t aware of exactly how much he had felt. Too much, he had felt entirely too much. 

“But for everything he did,” Solas continued. “I can do _more,_ and I can do it _better_.” His fingers slipped down her chin to the front of her throat, lightly caressing her vallaslin, and despite herself she felt her breath quicken. “I can make it race faster, for much, much longer.” His eyes slid once more to her lips and Lola was sure he was about to kiss her as he lowered his head to hers. 

“Solas-”

“-But, I’m no longer that man from my youth,” he said, stopping before his mouth touched hers. Lola exhaled, relief pulsing through her. “And it seems it would be time.”

“Time?” She asked, her voice breathless. “For what?”

“For you to _wake up._ ”

Lola sat up straight in bed, breathing heavily. 

What the fuck was that? 

She took in her surroundings. It was dark out. Late night? Early morning? She couldn’t tell. Tomes laid scattered among the wooden table, the floor, along with elven artifacts, and scrolls. This wasn’t her room. She looked down, Solas laid sleeping peacefully beside her. They were both fully clothed with books spread across the bed. One even laid open on his chest. That’s right. They had been studying. He had told her he’d show her the Fade. Was that where she had been? In the Fade? She wasn’t sure. 

She stood up, bumping into a stack of books and sending them tumbling to the floor. The sound causing Solas to stir in his sleep. 

“ _Lethalan_ ,” he said, rising. A small smirk on his face. “Have any interesting dreams?”

“That was you? Was that the fade?”

“It was.”

“We were where my clan camped. How? I never told you.”

“I followed your memories.”

He got to his feet. Stretching his long limbs. Anger flared in her. 

“You almost me kissed me in the fade,” she said, shoving him.

He chuckled. “You almost allowed me.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. 

“Unbelievable,” she said, storming out of his room into the night. She heard the door slam close, then open again. He was following after her.

“Lola!” He called out.

Was that all it would take for her to kiss another man? The right moment and someone daring enough to attempt it? She charged down the stone stairs, heading toward Cullen’s training field. It looked so odd at night. Abandoned. It was the end of the week. Cullen should be arriving back at any moment, or perhaps he already had and she had slept through it. Shame filled her. Why had she allowed Solas to draw so near her? 

She turned, heading down a dirt path, not exactly sure where she was headed.

“Lola,” Solas called from behind her, he had caught up to her. She felt him reach for her arm.

She spun toward him, fists clenched. “Is that what you do, Solas? Promise to show women the fade-“

“Of course not.”

“-take them to some sentimental area from their memories,”

“You chose that place. Not me.”

“-perform magic tricks -“

“Don’t be absurd.”

“ -and then-”

“Then what? _Nothing_ occurred.” He took a step forward, his eyes studying her. “Unless..you wish something had.”

“I-”

“That’s why you’re upset, isn’t it?” He asked, taking another step. ‘Because, now, you’re wondering how it would’ve been if I had visited your room that night, instead of him.”

She scowled, and turned on him once more only for him to throw up a wall of ice.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” She nearly yelled at him.

“Talk to me,” he urged. His voice grew gentle. “ _Lethalan_ , talk to me.” He neared her, she backed into the wall of ice. The cold seeping into her suit, biting into her skin. “Talk to me,” he urged. 

With a flick of her wrist she melted the wall down, only for him to throw up a second wall, once again preventing her from leaving him. Rage erupted in her, but even in all her anger, all she could think about was whether or not she had missed Cullen’s return. 

* * *

It had taken a full day’s ride, but Cullen had finally made it back to Haven. His new steed, Logan, wasn’t as quick or agile as Maximus, but he had made the journey back in one piece, and for that Cullen was thankful. He tied Logan up beside Maximus, preparing to head to his quarters. 

It was late, perhaps too late to knock on Lola’s door. He had reports to write, and needed to at least attempt to acquire some rest…. And in any case, wouldn’t visiting her this late insinuate he was after only one thing? While, yes, he had trouble thinking of little else, it still wasn’t the solely thing he was after when he sought her out. He had thought of he every day he had been gone, had contemplated finally writing her, but decided against it. Flashes of blue and yellow, caught his eye. What looked to be small explosions lighting up the night sky. It wasn’t too far ahead, he approached, hand on his sword, shield ready. As he drew closer he was able to see that it was giant walls of ice, that were being erected and then repeatedly melted by large flames only to be rebuilt again.

Apostates, he scowled. 

He had just come from dealing with a particularly aggressive group of apostates. They had leveled the bridge his men had been attempting to build, killing many, innocents included, and setting them back a month’s worth of work. 

He had no more patience for their kind. 

He rounded the path’s corner, hearing two voices. A male and female.

“Talk to me, _Lethalan_ .” The male voice called out, cool, controlled. The words were clipped. _Solas_. And there was only one Solas had ever called Lethalan.

“What do you want me to say?” A voice responded. Breathy, authoritative ...angry. It was Lola. 

Solas was building up walls of ice, in an attempt to stop her from walking away from him, and she was melting them. All it took was a twitch of her fingers and flames larger than any living man erupted from the ground, engulfing the wall of ice within seconds. She was powerful. They both were.

After the fifth wall, Solas audibly growled and switched tactics. This time he summoned the earth to beckon his heed. The ground shook and rumbled, building itself higher and higher until it completely blocked her path. Her hands balled into fists. Solas moved to approach her, his strides slow, careful as though stalking a prey.

“Do not cease speaking to me. Do not shut me out.”

“You want me to speak? Fine.” She looked up at Solas, her eyes reflecting the light like a cat’s. “Admit it. Admit you wanted me to wonder, to second guess myself. You saw an opportunity, and you took it.”

“And how is that any different from what he did? Hmm?” Solas looked around in frustration. “I know you think about it,” he said, his voice softer, lower. “I _feel_ you think about it. The only difference is, he took root in your mind just a little sooner than I.”

“I like him.”

“He was a Templar! His sole purpose in this world was to assist in oppressing people like you and me. You believe that type of mindset just vanishes along with the title??”

“He’s different.”

“Are you sure about that? Thousands of years ago your ancestors prospered in a world overflowing with magic, and not a single Templar was required. Now, I awake and am forced to watch the many ways this world have thought up to oppress our people.”

“Awake? Solas, what are you talking about?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He left the Templars of his own volition and others actually followed him, if that doesn’t prove he’s unlike the rest...No. I do _not_ need to stand here and explain myself to you! ”

“Than why are you?”

Lola’s hands burst into flames, their light illuminating Solas’s face. He looked at her with an intensity Cullen had only seen him give his books. “Because you have trapped me beside you, and I swear to the Dread Wolf that if you do not lower that wall, I will burn the area to the ground.”

Cullen watched as Solas’s lips curled up.

“You swear by The Dread Wolf, do you?”

Cullen had heard enough. “What is going on here?” He asked, stepping onto the dirt path.

Lola’s flames went out, and her face softened. “Cullen?” 

“Commander,” Solas said, only the slightest hint of surprise in his voice. “You’re back early.” All the emotion that had just been burning in Solas’s eyes had evaporated. His stoic mask had slipped back into place. 

“Only by a few hours,” Cullen replied, his gaze locking onto Solas’s, the elf’s face as neutral, and difficult to read as the night

“What brings you this way at this time?”

Cullen narrowed his eyes at Solas. “I saw flames. I came to check. Is everything alright?”

“Solas and I were just having a ...disagreement.”

“Is that right?” Cullen asked, his eyes on Solas. “Do disagreements between mages usually include flames, ice, and the movement of earth?”

Solas smirked, he waved his hand over the ground returning it to normal. “I assure you, Commander, how two mages make up is far more interesting.” His eyes flicked to Lola’s. “When magic permeates your very being, there’s no escaping it. In hate, in love. It’s ever present.”

Cullen turned to Lola. “Lola, if you’d like, I’ll escort you back to the camp.”

Her gaze slipped from him to Solas. She sighed. “No. Thank you, Commander. I believe Solas and I should finish our discussion.”

Solas eyes widened momentarily. It seems he wasn’t expecting that response anymore than Cullen was. Cullen didn’t like it, but he would respect it. “If that’s what you wish.” 

He looked between the two. Solas’s gaze was on Lola, and Lola’s was on the ground. 

They had been speaking about him, that much was clear, but from what he had heard, Lola had been defending her interest in him. Cullen’s eyes flicked to Solas. He wanted Solas to understand in no uncertain terms, that he was not going anywhere.

“May I visit you later?” He asked, ensuring his voice was just loud enough for Solas to hear. 

Lola looked up at him, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Yes,I’d like that.” 

“Good.” He smiled back. With that, he turned to head back to The Chantry.

* * *

Solas’s eyes tracked Cullen’s form down the path, until it was completely engulfed by the night. 

“I’ve made a fool of myself haven’t I.” His jaw tensed. His eyes wouldn’t meet hers.

This had gotten out of hand. “Solas, I’m sorry..”

“Please. You have no reason to apologize. It’s I who needs to apologize. I don’t know what came over me..it was- my behavior is inexcusable.”

“Solas-”

“We should get back. You have someone waiting for you and I...I need to find a way to sever the connection that flows from you to me. Goodnight, Lolani- Wolfe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Solas (younger Solas, specifically) to be a bit impulsive, and elitist. There are many times (in my opinion) that he comes across a bit pompous and condescending, and I was attempting to dig into the side of him. It’s a fine line, having him hit on her, without it coming across as creepy and overly aggressive. Having her drawn in by him, but not enough for her to forget Cullen. Hopefully, on some level, I succeeded. Eve if you got a different feeling from this chapter...I hope you enjoyed it!! XOXO

**Author's Note:**

> More coming soon!


End file.
